Long live baseball

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Both babes playing baseball: this fast-pitch softball player is loving life! Ri continues to craft her competitive spirit asking each game “who are we playing?” When I tell her the team – no matter which one – she has some curt response like “oh, they can’t hit” or “they aren’t that good.” This coming from my “I don’t like winners and losers” girl from six months ago.

Ri has really progressed with her batting. Her swing used to be rigid and awkward but now it is pretty smooth. She has been getting out there with David and me and working on it, to her credit. Her fielding needs some work – she’s got muscle – she just needs to move more quickly. It’s like she gets the ball and is so amazed it’s in her glove that she can’t move. A lot if the girls are like that though. And Ri just began playing this year so she will get the hang of it next year (hoping there is a next year – she gave up cheer leading after one year but, for that, I didn’t complain…).

Mario was completely upset that his baseball wasn’t coach pitch like Ri’s.

“I’m not a baby; I don’t need a tee!”

He was going to give it up but I told him he’d miss out on making friends and he decided to go for it. And he made friends – immediately. He walked up to everyone at the jungle gym and struck up a conversation. He began playing with two boys on the playground and acted like they were best friends in five minutes time.

His baseball game was hilarious. At first, he wanted to bat first. But then he saw that the last batter got to run all the way around the bases at one time since he was last at bat so he decided being last was better. He likes to look over in the stands while he’s on base to make sure people are watching him.

The field play could have just as well been soccer rather than baseball. As soon as the ball was hit, every single fielder – no matter the position – ran towards it. One glove would touch it but then another glove and body would land on it, then another and another. The poor soul who actually grabbed it would be smothered until the little tykes got up one by one.

Each time Mario returned to his position, he would look over at Jon and me and give us a wave or a thumbs up. Sweet boy. I’m pretty sure we only have about three years left of that before he’s too cool to acknowledge us.

Long live baseball and softball!

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Lovin’ the Reds 10K

On Mother’s Day, my girl cousins, Liz and Maggie came up to Columbus. Maggie recently started running and has been on a mission to get others to run. She succeeded at getting Liz to start up and they informed me that they were going to run the Reds 10K race on June 1. The race started near the stadium and ended in the stadium. In The Stadium?! How many years did I go to Reds games as a kid and dream of going on the field? Definitely a bucket list wish. But my non-committed self said “I will think it over” and went about getting dinner ready. As we sat at the table an hour later, Liz asked for my computer.

“I’m signing you and the kids up for the run because I know you won’t do it.”

She typed in my info, asked for my credit card number, and it was done. One thing about me is I don’t like to waste money. There was no way I was going to miss the run if I paid $50 for it. And so it was.

My little sis found out about it and decided she’d come in for it, too. Of course, she wanted to come in to actually race it. I was trying to avoid that piece. I get myself so worked up over these events so I just stopped racing in them years ago. But now Sarah was resurrecting that fire in my belly and I knew as much as I told myself I didn’t care about time, I’d try to win.

My mother and I engaged in much heartache for the three weeks between Mom’s Day and the race about what to do with Mario. We knew Ri would stay close to Julie during the race but were worried Mario may run off. We debated what we could do over and over until Jon finally stepped in and said that he was taking him to Mario’s house to shoot a beebee gun. Mario would prefer that over just about anything (going to Grandma Ionno’s house being the only exception).

Ri and I packed up on Friday night and headed to Cincy. We arrived to welcome arms from Gracie; she and Ri played house and baby dolls all night. Ri slept over at Aunt Julie’s house and got treated to goetta and pancakes in the morning. What a life.

Meanwhile, Sar and I got our sleep. I went to bed at 10 and woke up at 6:30 am ready to head downtown. Liz and Mag drove us and we got pumped up listening to some old school rap (those gals know how to do it).

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The Riverfront blew me away – completely different than the Riverfront I grew up with in the 80’s. Is that how you know you’re old, when you start reminiscing like that?! We all piled out of the car and took off for the porta potties before the race began.

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Sar found out that your time began when the gun was shot even though we wore chips on our shoes so we made our way to the front of the line. Sar got a heck of a start when the gun shot off and there was no catching up to her after that. We had made a pact to not feel bad if one of us ran ahead and she abided by it! I’m glad she did because it gave me additional incentive to keep my pace up and try to catch her.

I hit mile 1 at a 6:30 pace. Mile 2 at a 7 minute pace. On my way to mile 3, my mind really started to mess with me. A brief synopsis:

“You are over this ego thing. Who cares about your time?”

“Your body is gonna kill if you keep up this pace. Stop!”

“This is ridiculous. Just walk the rest of the race and stop torturing yourself.”

“Push harder. You can beat these gals in front of you.”

“Look at that guy running past me. Show him who’s boss. Catch him.”

“You only have three more miles. That is nothing. Run harder, girl!”

And so it went like a washing cycle – over and over again.

Until I hit mile 5 and saw 36 minutes on the digital screen. Holy cow. One more mile and I could stay under an eight minute pace. The mind games lessened and I concentrated on keeping pace with the guy in front of me. I could see the stadium ahead and then there was confusion. A lady holding a 10K sign told me to turn left onto the bridge. I didn’t think she was right but I turned. Someone yelled “no turn back!” I turned around and headed to the stadium entrance. There were a ton of people standing around and people walking in so I figured it was the end of the race. I was also amazed to be in the stadium – a place I had dreamed of standing when I was a girl. But then reality hit me, literally, as a female runner brushed by me. I looked ahead and saw the blue mat laying on the ground. Shit, the finish is up there! I bolted fifty feet and crossed over the blue sea. I made it. 45 minutes after I began.

I looked around in awe. The green field. The towering stands. Right field where I used to root on Dave Parker. And then I saw my baby sis making her way up the stadium steps.

“Sarah!”

She turned her head and we stumbled towards each other. We hugged.

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We posed for a picture.

And then we walked up the stairs talking about the hell we had just gone through. Sarah hated the last mile and was confused just like me at the finish. But she thought she got third among women based on a spectator yelling “You’re third!” as she crossed the blue sea. We found the white tent and waited for a print out of our results.

Meanwhile, Maggie called and had made it in an eight mile pace. Pretty impressive for just starting to run. Us Heile women are no joke.

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Sar was the first to get her printout. She came in 1st in her age group but it said she was 7th in females. She was bummed. How could that be? While we were contemplating that, I got my print out and saw that I was 1st in my age group! I couldn’t believe it. What a feeling of elation and pride.

We met up with Liz who ran almost the entire way (yet another Heile girl feat for just starting to run!) and their dad and sis and friend. We all gave high-fives and congrats. Then the phone rang. Julie and mom and Ri and Grace had arrived. We all hugged and laughed and took way too many pictures.

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Mags and I did some congratulatory push ups…

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while Ri performed her Strongman exercise and picked up Aunt Sarah.

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I found out Sarah won third place among women when I happened to see her name in the third place slot and confirmed it with the race worker. Her prize? To throw out the first pitch at a Reds game! So jealous! Sarah has won gift certificates, tvs, and the like but for this race she got a certificate to throw out a pitch, which would have been cool if she didn’t have to come back all the way from Pittsburgh. And what’s more hilarious is when we went up to the tent to ask what we got for winning our age division, the girl beamed at us and chirped “you get a Reds bobble head!” Sar and I about died laughing. It’s the simple joy of giving your all, I guess….

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Ri and Grace got to join in the fun, too and run the warning track. Poor Ri fell within two seconds of her run. Some six year old boy pushed her. Her little knees were scraped and one was bleeding pretty good. But she had her aunt and mom pushing her to keep going so she cranked it out. She’s got that runner in her when she needs it.

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Aunt Sarah and I were very proud when she got her medal. Gracie and the crew were up in the stands cheering Ri on as she walked up to them. What an awesome event with family. I was delirious with joy the entire day.

And to top it off, we got to go down the Fan Slide (something they never had when I was little!). Ri made me get a picture of Aunt Sarah because she found it hilarious that we went down, too.

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We drove home, put on our bathing suits, and headed to Blue Ash pool. Sar and I took turns heading to the whirlpool. That was pure heaven – I almost fell asleep three times.

School’s out

Maria did it up right on her last day of school – she rode her scooter in her white sundress and pink chain necklace, and stopped by Stauf’s for a blueberry scone for breakfast.

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It was definitely a bittersweet day for Ri. She loved her teacher this year, Mrs. Palmer. Mrs. Palmer is a hip, conscious, progressive, intelligent, technology savvy, non-conformist teacher. Her classroom doesn’t have the traditional tables and chairs; it has bean bags and funky chairs and rugs. She teaches a large portion of her class by computer – all of her second graders, including Ri, created and maintained their own blog during the year. She was great for Maria.

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Mrs. Palmer made a tile plaque for each child as an end-of-the-year present. She told me she cried as she read it to Ri. I cried when I read it, too. So thoughtful and further evidence that she is wonderful. She really captured Ri’s qualities, especially that she finds such joy in the ordinary which will make her life experiences all the more extraordinary.

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And then there was Mario’s graduation. Ri gave up a birthday party to go to it (“How can I miss Mario’s big day, mom?!”). Mario already felt “above” his friends when he marched into school. After all, he’d been out of preschool for a whole week since David began babysitting; all of his friends were still “stuck there” as Mario told us over and over.

His teachers made him a graduation cap that he was quick to scrutinize and determine was too big (it fit just right to me). They tightened it but then it was too small. I finally had to make two more adjustments before he was content (his teachers won’t miss that, I am sure).

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He walked in the muscle room with his class and waited for his name to be called. He received a certificate from his teachers and was polite and darling on the stand (I was hoping he’d break out in Gangum Style!).

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Patty and Joe came down for his graduation, and while he was waiting for his name to be called he kept begging to go home with them for the weekend. Do you think he got that wish?

Of course he did. And then he became a super-happy graduate!

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Memorial Weekend Round-up

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Ri and I were short-term celebrities Memorial Day weekend when we got to walk in the Grandview parade. It took mad running around to find a truck for my girls to ride in Saturday morning but I found one and the girls had a blast throwing candy to folks lining the street. I had them whooping up “Go Reds” at every turn. And, we got a surprise visit from Grandma Lolo. She came up for Ri’s first game and joined in the parade with us.

Once we got to the field, the girls lined up and ran around the bases as their names were called. Half were charged up and the other half were scared too death (Ri was in the former, of course). Then mom and daughter got photographed by paparazzi.

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Maria went three for three in our first game. I was so excited for her! Jon and I were worried that she’d strike out and get all melancholy about softball (like she did in practice) but she cranked it (and then started to get cocky saying “the other team doesn’t hit that well…”). It was a blast watching the girls hit and go around the bases so elated to have actually hit the ball.

Mario rooted on his sis and when I asked what his favorite part of the day was he said “seeing Ria in the parade.” Darling.

Mom blessed us with gorgeous ceramic mushrooms for our yard when we got home from the game. I love walking out to them every morning. It was so nice having her experience the chaos of the game with us!

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Mom left in the afternoon and Jon’s kin drove up. We had his parents and brothers and niece over for a cookout. Ri is all about family – always has been. When I told the neighbor kids they could stop over in the evening, she scolded me “Mom, we have family over in the evening – we can’t have friends over, too!” She likes her family time. Patty made her potato salad and her chocolate truffle for the cookout. Double trouble. I will be wearing sweatpants for the next month.

By the time the family left at 9:45, I was dead to the world. My body was exhausted in so many ways and I could barely make it upstairs to bed. So what did we do on Sunday? Headed to the zoo with the neighbors! Why not just make it a completely insane weekend?!
However, I got to talk with Stephanie, another adult, while the kids played and that was a welcome activity.

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I think we saw a total of eight animals during the time we were there because we had to stop at each statute and play on it. But it wore them out so we dealt with it just fine. It is so wonderful to have kids three houses down the street that get along so great with Ri and Mario. They will be spending a large chunk of the Summer together, Zi am sure.

By Monday evening, Jon and I were spent. Ri had another game on Monday afternoon and Jon got just as involved as I did as coach. We left the game, had two of Ri’s friends over and hosted the neighbor kids for Mario. I told Ri and Mario that dad and I better be sainted for all we do for them.

They both rolled their eyes … but then jumped on us with big hugs. They know.

Kindergarten or Bust

And that’s how Mario left his class remembering him: dancing Gangum Style. He got inspired to dance by one of his classmates who told me what he’d miss most about Mario was how funny he was when he danced Gangum Style. Another kid in the class said she’d miss how Mario yelled “whoop whoop” in the middle of class. I have a feeling Mario may be heading to the principal’s office a few times once he hits kindergarten.

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He wanted me to bring cupcakes on his last day – half chocolate and half vanilla. He stood next to them and ordered his classmates to get a paper towel and sit at their seats. He then picked up one at a time and asked the class who liked Madagascar or Avengers or Spongebob – all the different character rings that came on the cupcakes. He’d drop one off and then tell the class to settle down and wait their turn. He loves being in charge and he loves all eyes on him.

I asked if he’d be sad leaving his class and never returning. His response was unequivocal and quick: “No, I’m in kindergarten now.” He’s made it to the big show and he is not looking back.

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A Mighty Girl

I have a son who at age four pulled a Maxim magazine off the grocery store shelf and proclaimed “she’s hot!”

Why? Not because I, or his sister, dress in tight clothes and short skirts. And certainly not because his dad is riding around with him whistling at women.

I have a daughter who put on a shirt yesterday morning and pronounced “my belly sticks out of this shirt. I’m not pretty.” This declaration after I have told Ri a thousand times that she is beautiful and amazing. And that has been reaffirmed over and over by her grandparents and dad and cousins. So why does she say such nonsense?

Hmmm…. could it be the magazines (Maxim is among many), the tv shows (“America’s Top Model” comes to mind), the media focus on all things thin and “perfect” and superficial, or the companies who market princesses with big boobs and size 0 waists to young girls.

When I was five and begged for a Barbie, I got Dusty. She was a flat-chested “barbie” with sandy brown hair cut in a straight bowl around her face, wearing jean sorts and riding a horse. And Ri wonders why I despise dresses to this day. She was my ideal. She’s who I played with every morning. I grew up in Clifton – I saw all sorts of women walking around town. Big, little, pierced, saggy, firm – you name it. And they were all beautiful in their own right.

But I still squeezed the fat rolls on my belly at night as I laid in bed. “If I could just lose this, I’d be so much prettier.” So even with my forward thinking, feminist parents, I still got caught in the trap.

I appreciate Mighty Girl drawing attention to Disney’s revamp of the young girl in Brave from a strong, every day looking heroine to a dress-off-the-shoulder, made-up princess. Sometimes I catch myself dismissing these pleas for action because I’ve heard them over and over again. But then I get one more plea and am reminded that if we didn’t have such over-glamorization and “sexing up” of our girls, there wouldn’t be so many pleas.

Mighty Girl is doing critical work to help our girls see themselves as soulful, intelligent, strong, courageous, opinionated people – not sex objects and eye candy.

When Ri squeezed one of Mario’s friends the other day, Mario yelled out “My sister is really strong, Quinn! She can hurt you!” And when Mario needed help on his bike, he knew Ri would be at his side (“you got it Mario; don’t be scared little guy!”). I appreciate that Mario sees his sis as a strong girl.

Most recently, Ri has fallen in love with softball. She is not the strongest batter but she has been persevering through missed swings and not giving up.

“Heile Menkedick Ionno’s don’t give up!” she chirps at me, repeating the words I have drilled into her head for years as she takes another swing.

Keep it up, Ri, and don’t worry about bellies. You are beautiful.

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Losing it

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A picture of Maria and Mario shocked and amazed to find our house keys in the door after we spent 90 minutes trying to track them down all over Grandview. I could do nothing more in the moment than laugh hysterically at the entire situation – the entire day as a matter of fact (which warrants a completely separate post). The kids thought their mom was turning into a lunatic in front of their eyes, I’m sure.

It all began with an emergency situation at work whereby I had to leave a field trip with Ri to head into work – that right there put me in a foul mood. I got into work at noon and did not stop until 5:30. I proceeded to bolt home in order to see Jon off to Michigan for a few days for work and get dinner ready for Ri and Mario. While cooking dinner, I worked on homework with Ri (and Mario who is determined to start homework now to be ready for kindergarten).

After homework drama and dinner, we searched for shoes and we headed out to walk to Orange Leaf. I had promised it to Ri when I left the field trip hoping that would somewhat cheer her up (she’s like me, food always comforts). We locked up the house and took off. Mario banged his ankle along the way which elicited an unwarranted amount of drama on his behalf. Later, we saw Doris and Kim, our old neighbors, working in another friend’s garden. We stopped and chatted with them for a while and then headed north for ice cream. Mario banged his ankle two more times which warranted more full-blown drama – falling to the ground, writhing in pain, crying, pathetic screams, the whole deal.

As soon as we walked into Orange Leaf, my phone rang. A colleague from work needed to fill me in on meetings for later in the week so I got stuck on that call while Mario filled his bowl past the rim with cotton candy yogurt that he’d never eat (and I despise). We left after watching Three Stooges and playing tic tac toe.

I went back and forth between carrying Mario and pushing him on his scooter during the travel back home. When we got to the top of our street, I realized I didn’t have my keys. Are you kidding me? Luckily I had my car key so we hopped in the car and went to the friend’s house to scavenger her yard for the key. We had no luck so we moved to Orange Leaf. We scoured the place with no luck there either. We moved onto the police department and struck out there, too.

As we drove home, Ri fretted about someone having our keys and breaking into our house. I continued to console her reinforcing that no one would know they were our keys. Mario consoled her by confirming that he’d beat anyone up that broke into the house.

We pulled into the driveway and parked. As we walked to the front door at 9:20 pm, we saw objects glittering in the door. My keys. And that’s the end of the story.

But it’s not the end of days like this, I’m sure. Jon counseled me on slowing down when he called me at 10 pm from the road and I told him about our night. To some extent, he has a point. I need to know my limits based on my day – maybe forego a walk if I’m exhausted; maybe let them watch tv for an hour while I read a book; maybe not start the laundry until another day. But on the other hand, there are times when multi-tasking needs to happen. Kids have homework, sports’ practices, playtime, reading. They have to eat. They need to bathe every once in a while. And you have to push that all into a three hour period of time.

A report on NPR concluded that moms tend to multi-task much more than dads. Women felt more overwhelmed and stressed because they spent 10.5 more hours a week on multi-tasking than dads – such as laundry, dinner, homework. Dads tended to view multi-tasking as talking on a work call while “watching” their kids and didn’t feel as much stress. Well, imagine that…!

Now I love my hubby too death but I think he would fit right into this study. He gets on me for doing too much but homework, dinner, laundry, and dishes need to be done. We always kid each other about me going overspeed and him going to under speed and needing a middle ground for both of us.

I think that can’t be clearer after last night’s insanity. My mind clearly shut down after 8 pm. The fact I didn’t even look at the front door before we took off for a 90 minute key search is scary.

So, how to make it better?

1. Take some breaths in a room without kids. Do some chants. Calm my mind before I do anything.

2. Leave the dishes for a later date.

3. Eat cereal for dinner once a week.

4. Wear dirty clothes more often.

5. Make Jon cook dinner while looking over homework and folding kids’ clothes and watch him lose it, too
– the more the merrier.

Growing up Mario

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Yep, that’s slick boy handing out donuts to his classmates on Friday. Jon reported that he walked into the classroom, held up the box of donuts, and pronounced “Who wants donuts?” He beamed in delight as everyone yelled “Mario has donuts! Mario’s here!” I think he rather enjoys his ego stroked….

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But oh, is he versatile. He goes from city slicker to country hunter in a flash of a second. He wasted no time getting his camo on and heading out to Big Mario’s woods to hunt turkey with Jon. He was dejected when they heard a few but Jon had unloaded his gun already. I am fearful for those turkeys when he gets old enough to shoot.

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And if that’s not impressive, he has yet another persona – sweet, playful, curious Mario. We went to the river this morning to find cool rocks and I almost cried when he picked one up and admired it. “Isn’t this one beautiful, mom?”

My body could have melted at his feet. I told Jon when we got home that I am going to miss that innocent, precious five-year old boy who holds my hand and giggles as we throw rocks in the water together.

Jon mustered up five little words in response as he stared out the window: “I know what you mean.”

Hunting turkeys

Mario and Jon have gone turkey hunting a few times over the last month. They have come back empty-handed every time. Jon has, too, when he goes it alone. In fact, I think it’s been at least five years since Jon or my dad have gotten a turkey (the last time I remember is when I was laying out in the front yard and dad pulled up with a turkey he shot -I held it up by its turkey legs in my bikini – classy).

So, when Mario and I walked by the library on Tuesday night (Ri went out to dinner with her girlfriends after softball practice) and caught a glimpse of a turkey, we got excited. Mario screamed “Look at the big boy!” He strutted his fine self all around the cage (the turkey, that is).

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Mario begged me to call Jon and tell him. “Dad can’t shoot this turkey, though because he’s a pet.” At least he’s got some sense (every other time we talk about turkeys he wants to get out and hunt ’em). The woman owner was sweet as can be with the kids. She had ducks, chicks, rabbits and the Tom turkey. Mario petted all of them but couldn’t quite leave that turkey.

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When we headed home, I looked back at the turkey and glanced at Mario. “See, you couldn’t shoot one of those babes, could you?” He looked up at me for a second, grinned, and ran down the street laughing.

Mother’s Day 2013

Top Fifteen memories from Mom’s Day 2013

1. Watching Ri and Mario fight over who gives me my gift bag.
2. Using my Garmin GPS watch from Jon and the kids and clocking eight-minute miles.
3. Making frames with Ri to give to the Crutcher ladies.
4. Getting a voice mail from Meg and dad wishing me a great day and telling me I was the best mom (after Meg, of course!).
5. Hanging out with hilarious and loud women all afternoon (Patty fit in with us Heile women perfectly).
6. Scratching a winning lottery ticket from Patty for $8!
7. Receiving a ceramic painted mushroom to place in my garden and a flower basket from mom.
8. Eating chocolate truffle that Patty made.
9. Having Liz and Mag register me for the Reds Stadium 10K on June 1 (I finally get to go on the Reds’ field – I’ve been dreaming of that since 6th grade).
10. Getting a hug from Grace-Bug.
11. Watching Patty climb a tree.
12. Experiencing Lou running away from us after Ri accidentally let go of his leash. Pure madness on Bluff Ave. as mom, me, and the five kids chased Lou through yards and the street for eight minutes of intense emotion ranging from panic (“what if he bites that other dog!”) to gut-splitting laughter (watching the kids and mom try to pounce on the leash to catch him).
13. Learning how to angle the iPhone camera to hide a double chin (thanks Mag).
14. Eating leftovers when everyone departed.
15. Walking up to Stauf’s with M & M at 8 pm to get a coffee, bagel and giant chocolate chip cookie and hear them both say I’m the best mom ever (buying the chocolate chip cookie probably helped)!

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