Hand in Hand

My dad and I have almost always clicked.  We see things in similar ways, we have similar interests, and I would say that we are examples to each other.  I have always been my daddy's girl and have done a lot of things partially just to make him proud.  I gained my love of french from him.  I gained my love of running from him.  I gained my desire to continually improve and increase my capacity from him.  I appreciate so many things about him.  He strives to build up people around him.  He thinks positively even in dreary circumstances.  He is a man of faith and forgiveness.  I love him so much.

Today, my dad and I were able to do something together for the first time I can recall.  We ran a race together.  I had called him on my way home from the Bridal Veil Falls 10k two weeks ago to let him know I was back in the exercise saddle.  I bragged to him that I was already signed up for the Provo River 10-Miler for June 13th.  He then got that "I'm thinking about working something out" voice and informed me that he would be in town that weekend on business.  He was cautious about not committing, due to his desire to train properly before attempting such a race.  In the end, however, he signed up, too, and together we participated today. 

It's amazing to me how fast 10 or 15 years just went.  It seems like "just recently," I was running high school Cross Country and my dad was cheering me on.  It was "just recently" that I cheered him on running the St. George Marathon just after my mission.  And "just recently" we both could run a lot faster and less painfully.  Today reminded me that Time slows for no one.

The bus dropped off all the runners about three miles up from Vivian Park.  We ran all the way down to the Riverwoods shopping center.  The canyon wasn't nearly as frigid as last year at 7:30am, but we were still glad to have warmups.  Just as the race was about to start and we surrendered our warm clothes, it started to rain.  Ugh.  It turned out perfectly, though.  There was a light drizzle for the first few miles that kept us nice and cool as we set our pace.  I love running for a lot of reasons.  One of the most important reasons to me is that I see running as a parable for life.  Your attitude has a lot to do with how much you enjoy it.  You can focus on others around you, comparing yourself and getting discouraged, or you can take care of you and improve your personal best.  You can look at the ground the whole time and never trip, or you can risk looking up and realize what stunning views you've been missing.  I reveled in the peace and quiet of the canyon as we descended.  Clouds nestled in the trees, bright purple flowers peaked out on the hillside, and the river helped carry our spirits down to the finish.  My dad and I didn't speak for most of the run, yet I loved being there with him.  Sometimes in life, to be a friend, you don't have to say anything, you just have to show up.  During the race, dad and I both had our running music.  I know that we were literally running to the beat of different drums, but we both enjoyed the journey, both worked hard to finish as strong as we could, and both agreed that we should train better in preparation next time.  That's true both for running and for life.

Someday, I imagine my dad won't be able to run with me and I'll remember today.  Wherever his race in life takes him, I know he'll push to the end and finish strong... I hope I'm there to hold his hand when he crosses that finish line.

Love you, dad.

These are two awesome girls from Jamaica that we met and chatted with today.  Avia and Stophia Anne, mother of two.  I just love the friendly, positive atmosphere at races!

Scrumptious

...if I do say so myself.  I borrowed pans from 2 different people so that I could make these "pies" (I know they are tarts, but it was for a pie dessert thing with our ward at the Spring BBQ).  I enjoyed the practice and look forward to someday getting the creme part right.  The crust had a banana in it and we've been enjoying lots of fresh fruit this month... yum.

Joys of Age 3

This was a forwarded email that I enjoyed immensely because of how keenly I'm acquainted with this age at the moment.  :)  After reading it, I had to admit that there are benefits of having children that 1) don't speak clearly or 2) speak clearly in another language.

3-year-old tells all from his mother's restroom stall.
By Shannon Popkin 

My little guy, Cade, is quite a talker. He loves to communicate and does it quite well. He talks to people constantly, whether we are in the library, the grocery store or at a drive-thru window. People often comment on how clearly he speaks for a just-turned-3-year-old. And you never have to ask him to turn up the volume. It's always fully cranked. There have been several embarrassing times that I've wished the meaning of his words would have been masked by a not-so-audible voice, but never have I wished this more than last week at Costco. 

Halfway, through our shopping trip, nature called, so I took Cade with me into the restroom. If you'd been one of the ladies in the restroom that evening, this is what you would have heard coming from the second to the last stall: 

''Mommy, are you gonna go potty? 

Oh! Why are you putting toiwet paper on the potty, Mommy? 

Oh! You gonna sit down on da toiwet paper now? 

Mommy, wha t are you doing? 

Mommy, are you gonna go stinkies on the potty?'' 

At this point I started mentally counting how many women had been in the bathroom when I walked in. Several stalls were full ... 4? 5? Maybe we could wait until they all left before I had to make my debut out of this stall and reveal my identity. 

Cade continued: ''Mommy, you ARE going stinkies aren't you?

Oh, dats a good girl, Mommy! 

Are you gonna get some candy for going stinkies on the potty?

Let me see doze stinkies, Mommy! Oh ... Mommy! 

I'm trying to see In dere. 

Oh! I see dem. 

Dat is a very good girl, Mommy.
You are gonna get some candy!'' 

I heard a few faint chuckles coming from the stalls on either side of me.
Where is a screaming new born when you need her? Good grief. This was really getting embarrassing. I was definitely waiting a long time before exiting. Trying to divert him, I said, ''Why don't you look in Mommy's purse and see if you can find some candy. We'll both have some!'' 

''No, I'm trying to see doze stinkies"

"Oh! Mommy!'' He started to gag at this point.. 

''Uh - oh, Mommy. I fink I'm gonna frow up. 

Mommy, doze stinkies are making me frow up!! 

Dat is so gross!!'' 

As the gags became louder, so did the chuckles outside my stall.. I quickly flushed the toilet in hopes of changing the subject. I began to reason with myself: OK. There are four other toilets... If I count four flushes, I can be reasonably assured that those who overheard this embarrassing monologue will be long gone. 

''Mommy! Would you get off the potty, now? I want you to be done going stinkies! Get up! Get up!'' 
He grunted as he tried to pull me off Now I could hear full-blown laughter. I bent down to count the feet outside my door.

''Oh, are you wooking under dere, Mommy? 
You wooking under da door? What were you wooking at? Mommy?
You wooking at the wady's feet?'' 

More laughter. I stood inside the locked door and tried to assess the situation. 

''Mommy, it's time to wash our hands, now. We have to go out now, Mommy.'' 

He started pounding on the door. ''Mommy, don't you want to wash your hands? I want to go out!!'' 

I saw that my wait 'em out' plan was unraveling. I sheepishly opened the door, and found standing outside my stall, twenty to thirty ladies crowded around the stall, all smiling and starting to applaud. My first thought was complete embarrassment, then I thought, where's the fine print on the 'motherhood contract' where I signed away every bit of my dignity and privacy? But as my little boy gave me a big, cheeky grin while he rubbed bubbly soap between his chubby little hands, I thought, I'd sign it all away again, just to be known as Mommy to this little fellow.. 

(Shannon Popkin is a freelance writer and mother of three She lives with her family in Grand Rapids , Michigan , where she no longer uses public restrooms) 

Gros Yeux, Beaux Yeux

"Big eyes, beautiful eyes" is a fitting nickname for our little Matthieu (and it rhymes, too).  :)

Chris remarked at church yesterday that it was 

as if his cheeks spill out when he sleeps.  :)

Lovin' our little guy!