he's got gas

I had duty yesterday. (I know, I said duty.) (and just so you know, this post is filled with words that have a double meaning relating to bowels)

My job was to pick up both second grade classes from PE and walk them back to our classrooms.

As we were walking back, an unnamed boy who frequently speaks with no brain filter (I can totally relate to this, by the way) says to me:

"Most of my gas is almost out."

8I (thank you?)

me: Um, excuse me?

boy: I said most of my gas is almost out.

me: oooooookay! I'm not sure what you mean by that, but I'm okay with you not explaining it.

friday funny

I'm sitting at lunch with one of my cutie patooties yesterday when I ask my table of kids, "Has anyone brought any canned goods yet to our our canned food drive?" I get deer in the headlight looks and one who says, "My mom is saving money so we can buy some cans of food soon."

8I

Do you see that? That look? If not, turn your computer sideways. That's MY deer in the headlights look.

So I reply, "No big deal! Just bring some when you think of it soon." adding a smile.

The cutie to my right is sitting there, not speaking. After a pause in conversation, she looks at me and slits her eyes. And then telling a story as only she can, with her sweet little lisp, she says.....

"We actually made friends with a vagabond named Chris? (pause pause pause) (eyes still slitted) And heeeeeee's in jail now. In California. He was CAUGHT selling drugs."

OK. Now I ask you. Where do I begin? A VAGABOND? How many 2nd graders do you know who use the word vagabond in normal conversation?!?!

And what the what? I don't even need to know.

So I did what I always do when my littles tell me hysterical things. I reached for my phone to write it down word for word so I wouldn't forget later (for you, dear reader). And I began my deep breathing technique. The one that I use to keep from laughing outloud. Which is really hard for me.

school, at home

Overwhelmed.

That's a good word to describe a new homeschooling mama. And that's me. So far, as soon as I feel like I've caught a break, I realize it's because I've forgotten something. Too many plates in the air. Too many books and workbooks on the table. Too much. Too much.

Pray for me, just like I'm praying for the mama of the son who will marry my daughter one day. And the mom of the little girl who will walk down the aisle looking at my baby, her new husband. I'm praying those mamas are not as overwhelmed as me. That they are well rested, and able to pour into their children's hearts the way I am trying to pour into mine.

Life is hard. But I'm blessed. Thank God it's Fall Break!

Here's what homeschooling looked like in my house yesterday.

Because life is better with a friend by your side.

granny knows latin

When I was in high school, my mom made me take Latin. She told me I had to take two years of Latin and two years of French. After one year of pure hell and an expensive tutor, I BEGGED my mom to let me quit. I finally convinced her that I would take three years of French to make up for the one less year of Latin. I couldn't get out fast enough.

This year my son is taking Latin.

In fifth grade.

LET THAT SINK IN, PEOPLE.

I'm all about homeschooling, but I AM NOT QUALIFIED to teach or tutor him in this subject.

So, this weekend, I brought in the big guns. Granny. The Latin Lady, herself.

Oh, what sweet revenge. I've got her helping my son with his Latin today. HAHA.

But the best part of this story, people, is what Gavin whispered to me when she stepped out of the room.

"Mom! Granny is DRIVING ME UP THE WALL!! I thought maybe this would be a bonding thing for us. But instead? No."

I'm sitting behind my computer, snapping pictures and hiding. This is the most amusing thing I've seen in a long time.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

bribery. yo.

If you think I'm above bribing my homeschooler, you are sorely mistaken. He gets two sour gummy worms for every subject he finishes before 1 p.m. today.

Behold. The face of homeschooling in the Frakes home.

my own little cutie

Um, today I was reminded how much time my son spends with me.

We were at school and G was sitting at his lunch table. We sit with "houses" so there are kids who are pre-k, 1st grade, 3rd grade, and 5th grade in his lunch. As I approach my son at his table, he turns to me and leans in, excitedly.

"Mom! Oh. my. gosh. Do you see this little boy on the other side of *my friend*? HE IS THE STINKIN' CUTEST KID IN THIS WHOLE ROOM! (spoken in a loud whisper) I COULD EAT HIS FACE WITH A SPOON!"

Can you say mini-me? #guiltyofusingthosephrasesallthetime

a chicken lesson

Now class, let's review. Who remembers what this is called?

Very good! It's called MOLTING. Now, what happens when chickens MOLT?

YES. They turn into awkward teenagers! Their feathers fall out and the backyard looks like a chicken murder scene! That's right!

Do they die after they molt? No.

Do they keep laying eggs while they molt? That's right, no.

Does mama have to go to the store and (GASP!) BUY eggs?? YES. And it's SO SAD.

But don't worry. We will keep these girls happy and healthy as we head into fall and winter and they'll be back to laying in no time. We hope.

the funny kids return

Now that school is back in session, you know what that means!

FUNNY KID STORIES!!

First up is the cutie who wrote this on his exit ticket at the end of the day. They were writing about something they learned that day....

Oh. Em. Gee. HOW. SWEET. IS. THAT!!

our brand new life

I was going to make this a wordless wednesday, but then I realized... it requires words. Let me show and then tell.

See these beauties? They are from my son and husband. They gave them to me at Meet the Teacher.

Tomorrow we begin a new chapter in our family. We will be homeschoolers. Yes, Abby is still in her public middle school where she thrives and shines a light for Jesus. But Gavin, who has always been on a different path than his sister, starts at the Academy of Classical Christian Studies where I teach. He will be learning Latin (eek!) and all kinds of new things this year. And he'll be doing half of it with me.

I'm beyond excited, scared to death, bracing for the craziness, and feeling blessed for this last year of my children's elementary years being spent together.

Pray for us. I'm sure I'll need it.

teacher fist bump

Like all teachers, I've been in full-on back to school mode. We've had meetings and cleaning and greetings, oh my!

It's all good stuff! But it can do a number on the brain after you've made and labeled a thousand things for your classroom. You can become distracted easily, when your brain is going at a constant pace. .....I forgot to write names on the poster....Oh! I need another set of name labels for those new books!....shoot, I still need to make that seating chart for Matins....

So you can see how the following, epic event, might have occurred when my brain was on overdrive.

Yesterday we had Meet the Teacher. It's like Back to School night, but it happens in the morning instead. I had met a lot of new faces and of course, my precious new littles. I was swimming in thoughts that begged for paper to be written on. I realized, like most teachers, that I needed to pee and it was now noon.

Teachers have the most amazingly large bladders. Can I get an amen?

So I headed to the bathroom, still thinking and thinking and THINKING.

And that's when it happened. I lifted my skirt and sat on the toilet.

WITH MY UNDERWEAR STILL ON.

Let's rest on that thought for a moment...........

Because THAT, my friends, is the perfect example of a frazzled and tired brain.

p.s. Not to worry, I DID figure it out before any accidents happened.

cousins, cousins, here come the boys!

Every summer begs for a vacation, doesn't it? This year I decided to take the fam out to Georgia to visit my sister and her family. We had the best time, with lots of swimming, parties, and visiting on the porch with tea. Or coffee.

Whatever. It's a southern thang.



One day while we were there I heard G with one of the twins wrestling in the other room. I knew they were wrestling because there was a lot of grunting and breathing and very little talking.

Then out of the quiet came this voice, "STOP. WRESTLING!" (Abby)

And then after a short pause... "NOW. Which earrings should I wear today? The diamonds? Or the flowers?"



Rumor reports that they actually did pause at this moment and reply: "flowers."

bad bed fellows

HOLY MOTHER OF ALL RODENTS.

A few nights ago, I went out to the coop after dark to check for eggs. I did like I always do when I go after dark: I turned on all the backyard lights so I could see. (It's still dark, by the way.) Sometimes I take my phone for a light source, but not that night. Oh no. Not that night.

There are two doors to my coop. One for them to enter and exit through and one that's directly behind the nesting boxes. I lift that door upward each day to retrieve my eggs.

But this night, as I innocently lifted the door to grab my rightful items, I saw movement in the coop. It ran from the exit door to the edge of the egg retrieval door. And fast! My first thought was: RAT!!! Because pretty much any rodent is a rat to me. But upon closer examination, I realized it was a (young) nasty hungry POSSUM.

So of course, I screamed. And he stood there staring at me. I thought I might be on the verge of one of those scenes where the squirrel jumps out of the tree and straight onto Uncle Eddy's FACE, so I dropped the door and caused a loud slam.

I waited a minute for him to realize I meant business and leave, but when I lifted the door again, he was still standing there. What the heck! Did he think I was there to PLAY?? Was he not afraid of my loud door slamming show?

Apparently not.

And then I did what any normal, rational woman would do. I went inside and sent my husband out.

And do you know what he did?



That's right. HE TOOK A PICTURE.

If you're waiting for an end to this story that includes the demise of that possum or my sweet chickens, for that matter, then you're bawking up the wrong tree. (Ba dum bum chshhhh. Sorry, had to do it.)

We went inside, hoped he'd be gone by morning, and googled possums. Apparently THEY EAT EGGS. Mmmmm, how nice. The next morning I saw that evidence for myself. The two fake eggs we leave in the nesting boxes to stimulate production have little bite marks all over them like he had held it like a corn cob and gone to town.

It must have been terribly unsatisfying for him. Because we haven't seen him around again.

i'm vintage.

Today my precious 13 years old daughter found, purchased, and explained to me the modern marvel known as "The Chip Clip." As if I never lived through the 1980's. And flipped my hair up in a chip clip with the best of 'em. Yep, she's a trail blazer, that one.

If you're a man, you may be wondering what I'm talking about. Well let's just say there are no crunchy snacks involved here. Just your hair and a clip that snaps shut.

I love how often she shows me new, "hipster" things and expects me to be amazed, only to find out that I wore that exact outfit or those same shoes. Bless.

I'll be happy when the 80's go away again.

who am i?

Every once in a while I feel the need to freshen up my bio. I like to reassess where I am in life and where I'm headed.

Currently I'm firmly planted as a part time working mom who is consistently sporadic in her attendance of her son's sports, fully supportive of her daughter's ambitions to be whoever she wants to be, and has survived 15 years of marriage to a man who sees all my flaws and loves me anyway.

Yep.

But that's wordy, so I focused on single words.

Wife: check
Mama: check
Runner: iffy
Reader: check
Urban Farmer Extraordinaire: yeppers

Not sure if you caught that, but I'm rethinking my current attribute of "runner." To be perfectly honest.... no, I'm not running right now. For the first time in about 5 years.

And this little exercise has got me planning. I don't want to erase that description from my list. So I've signed up for a race. It's next February, but it's paid for, baby. And that means this cheap mama WILL BE THERE. Running. Cuz she's already shelled out the dough.

This will be my sixth half marathon. And it may be ugly since I'm only getting older here. But Cowtown Half Marathon: here I come!

last day

Well, school's been out for a week now. We've settled into our stay-up-late-and-sleep-later routine quite nicely. At least I have.

But I MUST tell you ONE LAST STORY about my school year with the cutest and funniest kids on earth.

It happened on the last day. We were sitting in a school wide gathering. Each grade was performing for the whole school, one at a time. Being in second grade, we were toward the middle of the "show." It was very hard to sit still. Even for me. And you KNOW it was torture for my precious little guys, who are wired to move. Frequently.

I was sitting next to one of my funnier ones. Remember the butt pimple? Yah, that little one.

He's trying his hardest. He really is. But he can't help chatting a little, here and there, when the words are too many to hold inside. So he turns to me at one point and points to his knee. There, where he's pointing in a miniscule drop of blood. He's staring me straight in the eye and he says:

I'M a SCAB PICKER!! (in a gruff voice)

Gosh I'm gonna miss that guy and the way he makes me laugh.

my 29 hour trip

Well that was fast! My trip to Georgia came and went... in exactly 29 hours. Since I was flying standby with Delta, I spent an entire day in the OKC airport, hoping to get out. I made new friends, had Schlotzsky's for lunch, wore a cute outfit that no one got to see, and went home at the end of the day.

Day two started just like the first, sitting in the airport waiting and wishing at 5 am. And at 5:45, when the last people were being called, on a wing and a prayer, I got on! I was over the moon. I couldn't stop smiling for 20 minutes into the flight.

And after a short nap, boom, I was there! My sweet brother-in-law picked me up at the airport with coffee in hand, and we were off!

We spent the day celebrating this sweet thang. And let me say, I've never attended a homeschool graduation before. It was by far the coolest graduation I've ever had the privilege to witness. Too cool.

Me and my sweet god-daughter.

Me and my biffle.

My mama and her girls.

The whole crazy family. LOVE.
And then that was it. We went to bed, woke up, had coffee on the deck, went to church (where Beth and I held hands and I cried because I was already knowing I'd miss her in 2 hours), and then we came home for lunch.

Time to go. 29 hours after I landed, I was back at the airport. Heading home. Sniff sniff.

I'm leavin'... on a jet plane...

This 39 year old mama just turned 41.

Time keeps on tickin', people.

And you WILL NOT believe the birthday present I got 2 days ago. A TICKET. TO ATLANTA.

I'M GOING TO GEORGIA TOMORROW!!!!!! Can you tell I'm excited???

Yes, this is a good day. I'm going to bed tonight and waking up at the crack of dawn to fly out to GA to see my SISTER!!!!

Oh and THIS baby girl!

Who is actually now, THIS baby girl.

My precious niece is graduating from high school and my bigger wiser seester bought me a ticket to come celebrate.
I can't wait.

The last time I saw my sister, she was in my bedroom lounging on my sofa and making me do the ugly cry when I saw her.

This time? No ugly cry. Just JOY.

classroom giggles part 50,000

This conversation ACTUALLY happened today at school. We were in a school wide assembly and I was sitting by one of my little guys. I could eat this kid with a spoon, by the way. And he starts jibber jabbering in my ear. He's switching from topic to topic with lightning speed. Then this came out:

Cutie Patootie: I like Sundays. What's this. (Now he's pointing to something near his chin but he's covering it with the finger he's pointing with.) A pimple?

Me: (giggling internally and craning my neck to see past his finger) A pimple?

CP: Yah.

Me: Where? (trying to get him to move the stinkin' finger without coming out and saying it)

CP: Right here. (finger moves, revealing..... nothing)

Me: Oh, no! That's not a pimple.

CP: (nodding in approval of my answer) But there's a pimple on my BUTT!

Me: (nodding) HHMMMMM!

And then I turned quickly away. Because sometimes you just can't look at them if you need to keep a straight face.

lately...

Man, I haven't written in a while! And I was reminded of that when I was visiting with my friend Stacey the other day. Apparently she reads my blog! Yippee! A reader! It makes my heart swell.

So as I was reading back over what I've written lately, I noted that I haven't followed up on my hopes for the New York Marathon. It seems, alas, that I won't get to run. Bummer. BIG bummer. But I'll throw my name in again for next year. Maybe when I'm 80 I'll get in.

And then I saw some pictures of my garden from March 31. Wow! How the yard greens up and the flowers bloom in a month! My chickens are livin' the dream out there. And as an added bonus, they are eating all the weeds, too! So although I have to pay good money to get my front yard sprayed and fertilized, my backyard is a green paradise! Heck, I might move out there soon. All I need is some outdoor furniture and an invisible shield to keep the girls from entering my personal space and pooping on it.

In my dreams. Yes, in my beautiful dreams.

Do you see my lopsided landscaping? On the left I planted a peony on the same day I planted that flowering bush on the right. (I should know what that's called, but I don't. It's called "the pretty flowering bush that made it through the last winter without dying" here at my house.) Obviously, one of these things is not like the other. But that peony is making a comeback, I tell you! Hopefully in 2 years it will be as big as the other, unidentifiable bush! Note to self: time to get rid of the broken fountain. It's already lived it's glory days. Put it out of it's misery. ASAP.

And now, for your viewing pleasure, are some awesome pictures I snapped of the girls. Who love a good modeling shoot.

HAHAHAHA! Aren't they funny? I could eat that last one with a spoon! Oh wait. I might.

the recorder strikes again...

Good news people! Gavin got his black belt! For the recorder that is.

There's this new-ish thing going on in public school music classes. The kids play a song for the music teacher. They pass "the test" and they get a little "belt" for their recorder. Actually it's a color coded piece of string that gets tied onto their case. But that's neither here nor there.

The fact is: G is a black belt in the recorder. AND, not to brag, but he's the FIRST FOURTH GRADER TO RECIEVE THIS HONOR THIS YEAR.

Okay..... how did this happen? I think the standards have been significantly lowered for musical prowess since I was a girl.

But I haven't even gotten to the best part.

Today is my daughter's birthday. MA BABEEEEEE! She's a TEENAGER! And while we were having our 6 am birthday present opening session before the kids got ready for school, Gavin decided to give his sister the most thoughtful gift he could imagine.

A SERENADE OF HAPPY BIRTHDAY ON THE RECORDER.

Are you KIDDING me? I had to close my eyes. I was pretending to really focus on the beautiful music being played from his heart, but really I was cringing at every flat note he played in lieu of the correct one.

Finally, Abby, who had been so sweet (for once) to listen to his off key rendition, said, "Thank you GAVIN! THAT WAS SO SWEET!" (thus signalling an end to the song).

And in the quiet, dark of morning, across the room, Scott said:

Gavin. Sports. Yo.

The moral of the story is: A music career is not in your future, son.

deep thoughts by kim handy

There is so much sadness in the world today. Look around. You'll find failings of all kinds. The earth is failing us (floods, tsunamis, tornadoes, and earthquakes). The hope for peace is failing us (see middle east). And humankind is failing. Failing us? Maybe. Failing in themselves? Absolutely. Physical illness, mental illness, addiction, personal failings. Aren't we all failing in some way?

I've recently come across the news to find people I know in trouble with the law. People I know. And it got me to thinking about a song I like. The lyrics, in part, read like this:

All those people goin' somewhere
Why have I never cared?

Give me Your eyes for just one second
Give me Your eyes so I can see
Everything that I keep missing
Give me Your love for humanity
Give me Your arms for the broken-hearted
The ones that are far beyond my reach
Give me Your heart for the ones forgotten
Give me Your eyes so I can see

You see, when I saw these people on TV, it broke my heart. I haven't seen either of them in years, but obviously, life has not been good for them. So where are my arms right now? Are they reaching out? Am I stepping forward to show love? No, I'll be honest. I'm sitting in my little bubble, focusing on what I can control (ha! or at least what I think I'm in control of), and hoping for the best for these people. People who God loves. People who He is wishing more for.

So what can I do? I'm not in a position, even if I were willing, to help these folks. I can't bail them out of jail. I can't change the charges brought against them. It feels hopeless. And yet, there's hope.

I was talking to a friend yesterday. She was telling me about one of the people I saw on the news. She mentioned that this person had exhausted their family financially and emotionally. She said there was probably no hope left for her life. And it got me to thinking. NO HOPE? Is that what Jesus says? Because if there's no hope for these people, then that means there's no hope for me! No hope for a sinner, broken and scarred.

It was about then that scripture began flooding my mind. Things like when Jesus said, "With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible." Notice he said "all". Not some things. Not most things. But ALL things. Including this lady's life. Is she not the perfect example of the person in that song I mentioned? Broken-hearted. Forgotten. Beyond my reach.

I can't do anything to change these people I know or the course of their lives. But I can do something powerful without leaving my home. I can (and have) dropped to my knees before an Almighty God, who knows all our sin and forgives us when we ask. I can stand in the gap for these people, even if they have no idea there is a gap. And I can petition the Lord on their behalf, asking that the HOPE they need will come. That it will be right around the corner. On it's way before they've even asked.

Stand with me. Please?

the dirty little secrets of an urban chicken farmer

OK, I'll admit it. I put the pretty side of urban farming out there for everyone to see. I neglect to tell you things like the poop. THERE'S A LOT OF POOP, PEOPLE. I don't mention that I have to clean out all that poop from the coop. Often. And I don't tell you that if I'm smart, I have to spray down my deck to keep the poop from cooking onto the wood. Often.

So today I'm here to be honest. I know you've seen my chicken posts and thought, "Oh how cute! Look how fun! It can't be THAT hard, can it? I SHOULD GET SOME CHICKENS!" I know this because you've told me so. I hear it all the time from friends and aquaintances. They, YOU, are thinking about getting chickens. What should you know?

Lesson #1, first and foremost! BE PREPARED FOR POOP. If you do not have a member of your family willing to deal with this issue on a regular basis, you're not ready for chickens.

Lesson #2, BUY A BOOK! Get yourself educated. Don't get the chickens and THEN buy the book. Do it now. It may save you from getting rid of those chickens down the line when you realize they have pooed all over your favorite brand new lawn chairs next to your beautiful pool in your well manicured and lovely backyard. Pinterest-worthy lawns with gorgeous pools do not mix with free range chickens. Just being honest, people. HEED MY WARNINGS.

And Lesson #3? Well, it's hard to say what should come next. Let me tell you what I found today. Maybe THIS is #3. It's that darn Flo. She's gone broody again. Thank the sweet Lord above she's not hopping the fence again, but she's definitely off her rocker.

This morning I opened all the windows. It's gorgeous weather in Oklahoma today and I was enjoying the birds chirping and the occasional chicken squawking. I felt the fresh air blowing in. Yes, it was a lovely morning with my pinterest and coffee.

Let me mention here that I am no chicken expert. But I am an expert on MY chickens. And when they squawk, I know there's an egg a'comin'. So I'll be honest, I was slightly taken aback when I heard Flo on the deck. Hmmmm. I've only been getting 2 eggs a day for the last 5 days, down from 4 eggs a day. Hmmmm.

As I got up and crossed the living room, I looked out onto the deck. There was an empty, broken egg shell. WHAT??!?!!?!?

This is bad, peeps. Really bad. You don't want your chickens eating their own eggs. (Lesson #3? Perhaps!)

When I went out and picked it up, I was squatted down. And I looked under the table to find Flo sitting on one of the chairs that was pushed under the table. Were those eggs I saw underneath her?

You bet your sweet biffy they were. And Oh. My. Gosh. There were FIVE. She's dying to hatch some chicks!!

I'm in big trouble. I need to go read my books again. Not sure how to proceed.

And the last lesson for today, especially those of you who are STILL thinking you are the exception to the pool/beautiful backyard rule: Lesson #4: CHICKENS ARE DESTRUCTIVE.

OK, not in a horribly significant way, but nonetheless. They dig holes all over your yard for their dust baths. (SEE A BOOK ON CHICKENS)

And they will eat your pretty plants.

And last, but not least, they will break/tear up your things.

Now, consider yourself fairly warned. If you can handle all of the above, race on out and get you some cheek-uns! You can do it! Anyone can! ;)

p.s. I love my girls.

i know what you did last night

Do you? If you're my facebook friend you've gotten a sneak peek. Yes, I am one crazy old mama.

Let me fill you in. There is a torch being carried from California to Boston and it runs day and night, round the clock, by crazy people like me and 5 of my newest friends. And it was, by far, one of the coolest things I've ever done as a runner. Check out www.onerunforboston.com and you can even see it live on a gps map!

So last night I went to bed at 9:45 pm. And I woke up at 11:35 pm. We met at a Starbucks in Norman and hopped in the car together, all six of us, filled with anticipation and lots of snacks and water in the trunk.

And then we drove. It took a couple hours to get out into rural western Oklahoma. And let me tell you, when someone says you can see the stars better out in the country, they are speaking truth, people. It was amazingly and frighteningly DARK out there.

We found our ending point here:

Oh yes, we did. I don't think we could have found a better named bar on the face of the planet. Right?!

Anyway, the girls needed to use the potty by this time, so we all thought, Hey! Let's go in!

It seemed like a good idea at the time. Last call was about to occur. It was, after all, 1:30 in the morning.

But as we entered, you could literally hear crickets chirping. It fell silent upon our entry and EVERY head turned our direction. I will admit, I was scared. I wanted nothing more at that moment than to blend into the woodwork and disappear but we were wearing running clothes in neon colors. And so there was pretty much NO CHANCE OF THAT HAPPENING. Luckily I was surrounded by some ballsy women. And they forged a path straight for the bathroom. Past the people playing pool and smoking so heavily that my lungs went into a fit. Past the plastic tables used during the week for their famous buffet. Straight for the one hole bathroom. And then a REAL friendly old lady came over and stated, rudely, that she was going to need to see every one of our IDs if we were going to stay there. Eek! I left mine in the car! I'll go get it!

So off I went and there I stayed. Well a few minutes later I was beginning to wonder if the girls were coming, so I walked over and looked in the window. They were sitting at a table drinking a beer! Talking to the locals! They were having a grand ol' time!

Soon they all filed out (it WAS last call, after all) with a whole new set of friends. It seemed that while I sat in my car with Jerry, the girls were inside making new friends. It's a very friendly set out there in the boonies. After the shock wears off from seeing strangers enter their beloved space, they are happy to share the love! And buy you a beer!

Not long later, we were zipping down the two lane highway that we were about to run. We got to our hand off point and met our previous runner, a lady, by herself, with a dog. SHE HAD RUN FOR 10 MILES ALONE IN THE PITCH BLACK, PEOPLE. WOW. So we strapped on our headlamps and took off! Torch in hand.

Apparently Brenda runs with full on makeup at 2:30 am. Who knew.

This is Laura, our fearless leader, taking the torch from the amazing lady who ran alone with her dog.

When we took off, we made a plan to have someone drive the car of every leg. Who drove depended on who wasn't running that part. I ran the first two miles, then drove a few miles, jumped back on for a mile, and then drove some more. I hopped out and ran the last mile as well. But three of our runners ran the whole 12 miles, because THEY ARE THAT AWESOME. Way to go Laura, Tara, and Jerry! You are my heroes.

Sometimes when I was alone in the car for a mile (10 minutes), I wore my headlamp on low and read my book. Yep, that's how I roll.

And then on one of my stops I spotted this.

Hey, I love Jesus! And I love living in the bible belt, but I will admit to being shocked that you can apparently spend public dollars to erect a sign like that in small town Oklahoma. Who. Knew.

Well, a few miles later, we were done! Just like that.

And Laura handed it off to a man and a lady. And off went the torch, on it's way to Boston.

Coolest running experience. Ever.

i'm bleeding! make it stop!

My son. He is an athlete at his core. He came swinging a bat out of the womb.

OK, not really. But he did walk out, talking about how hot he was for 9 months.

OK. Another exaggeration.

My son is a natural at almost everything he tries. But we have found his weak spots. They include, but are not currently limited to: roller skating, skate boarding, and playing an instrument. Also, he dances like Elaine from Seinfeld.

While he has plenty of hand/eye coordination, he lacks balance for things that involve wheels.

And although he can sing like a pro, hitting every note perfectly (though don't ask him to do this for you. he will feign an inability.), he can not play the recorder for the love of all that is good.

Today I drove him to school. He had all week last week during spring break to practice for his latest "belt test" with the recorder. He had to play Amazing Grace. So he pulled out the recorder in the car and started playing.

Which brings me back to a time in my life when I called my doctor's office from my closet. The sound of my children's voices was reminding me of nails on a chalkboard. They promptly required my presence in their office within the hour. That was rough. But not to worry, it was fleeting.

However, I digress. Sort of. See, this morning in my car as the captive audience to the worst recorder performance I had ever bore witness to, I wanted to hide in my closet. It hurt. Like, painful. Painful.

But I powered through, like a good mom, and even tried to sing along, to help him hear the error in his ways. When we finished, he said, "Thanks Mom. That helped!"

To which, I replied, "Honey, you're welcome. But don't quit your day job. Did you practice last week when you had time?"

"No. I was busy! Playing games and sleeping in!"

"OK! Well, just be prepared. This may be the first B you've ever gotten in your life." (trying to toss in a little guilt for the lack of preparation)

"What? First, Mom, they don't give As and Bs in Music. And second, WOW! You're not even being encouraging!"

"Honey!! You are good at so many things! You just can't play the recorder well at all! But I love you! You are an awesome athlete and you're so smart! We all have our gifts. Yours just isn't music."

I'm happy to report that the whole time I'm telling him he stinks and his recorder skills have made my ears bleed, he's giggling. And when I finished my monologue on how great he is, minus playing Amazing Grace, he burst out laughing.

Luckily we've instilled laughter into our kids and being able to laugh at oneself often in our home. If nothing else, he's well adjusted.