Number Signs

Michael's training run was 18 miles this morning.  He gets up quietly and we never hear him leave.  When he comes back we are still in our pj's.  He makes plans to paint the stairs and install some garden art his youngest got for her birthday.  He wants to get this done so we can go see some music at an outdoor festival in our community tonight.

His projects complete, he sits in the backyard at this moment, providing musical accompaniment to Addie's frolic in the pool.

If I had run even half that, I'd need the day to recover.  I would not be doing yard work, I would not be making evening plans and kid-entertaining would be less than voluntary.

But I think Addie and her dad must have had a chat about something last night.  Looked like they were deep in an exchange as they took a break from the lakefront festival we wandered through. 

Maybe she encouraged him to aim high. 

"This high?"

"Yeah, dad.  As high as you can."

26.2 4 RTS

Groove

Will you come back with me today?  To Hopeful Parents?  I spent a good chunk of time there.  Not actually writing, but just being, well, hopeful.

Groove

Now back to it.  I'm on a roll.

PS.  Michael is running the Lakefront Marathon again in October.  And he's carrying Rubinstein-Taybi Syndrome families with him across the finish line again.  Click here to see how:  26.2 for RTS

Fear. This. Underdog.

So often you aren't even given credit for intention, for a plan, for setting your own goals.  While we're busy underestimating you and commenting about your lovely hair and your sweet smile, you blindside us with something amazing, leaving us in our patronizing dust as you look back with a half grin, amused by our befuddlement.

You have plans, we can see that.  You have power, we can see that.  We're watching, Addie, can you see that?  Watching faithful of a continued string of clever path-picking.

Happy, happy birthday, my 9 year old.  Anything can happen today.  You taught me that.

Daisies in Her Footsteps

My first born, my teacher, my light, my wit, my rock, my clarity, my hope... she turns 13 in 2 hours.  I knew it was coming, but I'm still reeling.  It was not that long ago I was no mother, I knew nothing of it.  And then a free spirit came along to show me the way.

While I know you don't wear the same thing every day, nor do you smoke pot - we can consider those lyrics metaphors for your particular devil-may-care way of moving about in joy and radiance.  You are someone who leaves a wake of hope and clarity behind you wherever you go.  We see daisies in your footsteps, my sweet.

Happy birthday. Happy every day.