The other day I went to minor league baseball game with my family to see my nephew play the National Anthem with his school band. My entire side of the family attended the game (5 sisters, three brother-in-laws, 7 cousins, 1 father-in-law, 5 friends) because seriously we're not sure if there will be another time we'll get to see our nephew on a minor league baseball field playing the trombone - exactly.
I was applying my make-up yesterday morning (what little I wear), trying to get out the door, shooting orders like a drill sergeant at the boys to get their back-packs packed, brush their teeth, and get jackets on - when I noticed out of the corner of my half-eye lined eye that my littlest bugger was looking up at me, on
When I train for a race, no matter the distance, no matter if it is a road race, a relay, a fun run, a triathlon my thoughts, my goals, my effort and my training is focused on one thing: The Finish Line.
I train to cross the finish line. I spend weeks upon weeks mentally and physically preparing myself to get to that finish line. The doubt, the questions, the what if’s about my life, my ability, myself are left on the road during my training, it’s where I gain the strength, the solitude, the courage and the confidence to cross the finish line.
With the end of the school year fast approaching, I thought this would be the year that I would make some “mom friends.”
You know: Shuffle our children off after school for play dates, go out to dinner every once in a while, get tipsy laughing over the school principal, maybe go for walks in the mornings... but it didn’t happen.
My town of Bethpage is without a doubt a small middle-class American town that prides itself on their football program, their tight-knit community, and Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation (now Northrop Grumman and hereinafter “Grumman”) where the F-14 Tomcat, Apollo Lunar Module and other amazing fighter jets were built.
Sometimes my kids annoy the crap outta me. There I said it. I know I am raising them. I know that I am teaching them this behavior (on some level) and I know I am responsible for their behavior but sometimes, man oh man I really just want to say "Just SHUT UP!"
At lunch the other day, a friend and I were discussing our families’ summer vacation plans.
After seeing and holding the newest member of our family I've realized that there is nothing as pure, beautiful and amazing as the sight of a new born baby, but the smell, the smell of a newborn so lovely, so clean, it actually reminded me of the air in Oregon, strange I know, but it did.
I am the youngest of five girls now strong-willed hard-headed women who were raised in a strict Italian house where my mothers' signature scent was bleach and ammonia – mixed – don't tell my mother it's toxic because she will prove you wrong. My father, my poor father not a single male in house unless you count our dog Dudley who whenever he went to the bathroom NEVER lifted his leg he always squatted – so yes, my dad was outnumbered.
With the tragedies of Sandy Hook, Hurricane Sandy, our national deficit and what's going in Syria one would think that no one would care about Lance Armstrong.
We have better things to worry about right? Right?