Can we just take a moment to celebrate me?

Because this momma just survived her daughter's first year of middle school. I'm prepared to reward myself all summer for this milestone. I've earned it.

I've {mostly} played it cool all year long. I've almost bitten my tongue off multiple times trying to keep myself from spewing out unwelcome advice. I've allowed my daughter to leave the house almost every day dressed like she just rolled out of bed (because she did), I've done my very best to under-react to drama, and in order to prove my love to this child, I've memorized the entire Hamilton soundtrack (which wasn't really a sacrifice if I'm being honest). 

And then, yesterday at 3:20 PM it was over! To celebrate, a group of these sweet, oily-faced kids met at Braums. The moms sat together and practically cried sweet tears of relief. 

I'm thankful for the experiences Mia has had this year. She's learned how to manage her time a little better, how to navigate relationships a little better, and, perhaps most importantly, that this too shall pass.

I'm also thankful that girls still sit on one side and boys on the other. 

 And now I have three months at home with this:

I'm currently looking for an 80 hour per week summer job.

Oh yah, the fam accompanied me to Disney, how could I forget?

I'll tell you how: By running the greatest race in the history of all the races ever.

I guess we had fun together.

The time I ran the greatest race in the history of all the races.

So the BRPE and I went to Disney World to run the race of all races - the Disney Marathon. Lemmetellya, it's the best race I've ever run. Hands. Down.

If you ever want to run a marathon that doesn't really feel like a marathon, then this is the race for you. Because, Disney.

 It was so fun that my psycho-face was in full force. I couldn't help myself.

 I'm the only person in the world that can run a marathon and still have three chins. I give up.

 Imagine all the fireworks, all the Disney parks, all the characters, all the music, all the people cheering - all the stuff that makes Disney amazing all rolled into one race and then multiply that by 100, and that's how much fun this was.

Also, we killed it. No one crashed. No one (me) cussed up a blue streak. No one puked. No one cried. No one fell over in utter exhaustion. It was the race of all races.

I've compared running a marathon to labor and delivery. This was the scheduled-c-section-right-before-you-get-to-the-miserable-point-of-pregnancy-but-right-after-anything-dangerous-could-happen-to-the-baby kind of thing. So, basically, perfect.

If there was ever any hope of my daughter supporting me financially someday, it went out the window this year.

Because this girl is KILLING IT in the theater. She went from Dorothy in Wizard of Oz right to Amaryllis in Music Man (and next is Jasmine in Aladdin). She's on fire, ya'll. And we all know that what follows will be years of being cast as Tree #3, but for now she's eating. This. Up. 

All this theater experience has served to confirm that all she wants to do someday is own her own community theater. Translation: No health insurance or 401k for this girl!

 She's said this for years and I've always countered with, "That will be an awesome hobby for you someday."

 But she's no longer buying it. The other day she said, "Mom, you know I don't care about money don't you?" And I do know that. And it's honorable and stuff. But geeesh, woman, I don't want to support you one day longer than I have to. 

 The best thing about this whole theater obsession is that she is now using this passion to work with special needs children. She auditioned to be a mentor for a full-stage production of Aladdin at Special Care. All the leads are played by special needs children. She is mentoring the girl who plays Jasmine. She has learned every line and song and is right on the stage with her the whole time helping her perform. It is the best thing I've ever seen in my life.

 Her heart is so wide open to all kinds of people and it's a real lesson to me. 

 Her heart is especially wide open to all the college kids she worked with in Music Man. She sort of thinks she's already in college, which is equally terrifying and hilarious.

Thankfully, these happen to be the kind of college kids that I want influencing her life.

 They all took such good care of her on the set.

 And because I'm human and totally have favorites, I now take care of them.

 They can come to my house and eat all the food out of my fridge anytime they want.

 They can even live with me (one of my most favorite musical theater students is doing just that).

 Remind me to teach college students about the benefits of clear tape.

Even if she is destined to be poor for the rest of her life, I could not be more proud of the way she uses her talents.

She's pretty wonderful.

A lot of normal things have happened the past four months

I've been avoiding this place lately because I got behind and every time I thought about catching up I got overwhelmed and wanted to go hide in a closet.

But, these are the only memories my kids are going to have because Lord knows I don't scrapbook, I haven't printed a picture since 2007, and I drink too much aspartame to be able to sufficiently remember anything. So, this is it.

My to-blog list:

1. hiking the grand canyon - we didn't die
2. Thanksgiving and Christmas - you know, gluttonous
3. Bode's sports - he recently said he's having two children and naming them LeBron and Kyrie, so, basically, it's going great
4. Mia's theater - she's been in Music Man, she's been to Sacramento, she's mentoring special needs kids, and just got cast as Jasmine in Aladdin (she just had to be the slutty princess)
5. MARATHON IN DISNEY WORLD! Why, yes, this did need to be in all caps, thankyouverymuch
6. Jen Hatmaker and I are besties and now I can die happy.

This biggest disappointment I've experienced in having older kids is that you can't make fun of them on the internet as much. They have A LOT of feelings. It's super annoying. 

And, children, when I make this into a book and present it to you at your high school graduation or some other super monumental event in your life, you better friggin' love it.

I enjoy my kid's sports too much and it's scaring me.

I don't know how to say this without sounding like an imbecile so here goes: I'm too into Bode's sports. I get too much satisfaction out of it. I'm ashamed of myself, but I can't tame the beast.

But, seriously, look how cute:

What I'm not: A screamer. A you-better-win-at-all-costs person. A you-could-have-done-better parent. And because I'm not that kind of crazy, I have convinced myself that I've got a handle on this and that I'm a "balanced parent."

I'm an encourager. I pay lip service to things like teamwork and leadership and exercise and working hard at stuff. I say all the right things because I'm an educated person and I read fancy articles based on actual science.

But here's the sad truth about my life: Knowledge does not always equal wisdom. You're shocked. I know. Also, miniature baseball, football, and basketball teams aren't real. They matter not. I tell myself this on a regular basis. Yet, I love the whole, time-sucking thing.

I find myself canceling coffee dates to watch 9-year-olds try and pitch (bless). I've been known to reschedule actual meetings about important things like college kids' mental health so as to not risk being late to a flag football game (or as I like to call it, a fancy game of tag).  

Andy and I have had serious conversations, on a date no less, about how the basketball team is going to do this year. The third grade Oakdale basketball team.  I'm guessing this is defined as a new low.

There is this delicate balance between supporting your kids and their things and sending them the message that their performance is what gives them value in your eyes. It's some murky water and I don't want to get this wrong.

And when I feel myself getting a little left of center I try and make up for it by reminding Bode of all the gifts the Lord has given him and telling him how much fun the engineering program is in college.

And then he tells me that he won't have time for engineering because he will be playing basketball and baseball, which is very rare for college athletes but definitely not rare for him.

And I give up. For now.

I have a fever, and the only cure is more little league.

I'm teaching the kids how to use Uber. It's the only way to survive.

So, I remember when my kids were babies and I thought that as soon as they could wipe their own rears I would be set. But the thing with kids is their is always, always a catch. 

They can now wipe themselves (although with Bode, at times, it's questionable) but with that wonderful ability came things like hobbies and passions, and because I'm a sucker I've indulged their desires to be involved in....wait for it....activities. 

As a result of these activities, I will not be available for coffee, dinner, a simple chat on the phone, bunco, meal prep parties, botox and wine get togethers (I've heard this is an actual thing and I love it), showers (the baby, wedding, and cleaning of the body kind), mani/pedis, proofing my texts before I send them, continuing ed, hair appointments, any kind of preventative care doctors appointments, yoga, spin class, a leisurely walk, grocery shopping, a deep conversation, naps, spring cleaning, or girls road trips until August of 2025. 

So please don't give up on me. I'll be back in no time at all.

Until then it's theater and sports. And I'm not gonna lie, it's pretty fun. A different, exhausting, living-in-the-car-eating-food-from-drive-thrus kind of fun, but fun nonetheless. 

Because I'm not organized enough right now to make informed and timely decisions, Mia accidentally got cast in two shows at once. It's insane. Music Man and Aladdin all mixed together in a sea of scripts, rehearsals, and loud shower singing.  Her life is bizarre. 

Two of these theater girls are 18 years old, and Mia, an innocent 11-year-old, looks just like them. I blame chicken for this. I've seen the documentaries. I'm no fool.

And this is the year we transition to kid-pitch baseball. For a mother of a catcher, this is terrifying. For a baby-boy catcher this is the most thrilling experience of his life. Only because he is now wearing a "cup." I'll tell you what's not a thrilling experience: Asking your kid, for the hundredth time, to quit punching himself in the cr0tch, and for the love of your future grandchildren, to quit letting his friends do it too.

I know this will come as a shock, but my life is not glamorous. 

School started and stuff.

School started with minimum fanfare. It's like the kids are finally resigned to their fate.

Bode has a new (to Oakdale) teacher for third grade this year. She was naive enough to let Bode and three of his bffs sit together. After six days her positive resolve faded into the sunset and she rearranged the seating chart.  

 Mia started 6th grade. And just as I predicted, she's come home every day with homework and an attitude. 

This is the first year Bode has been old enough to kind of get into the Olympics. This was his official Olympic watching outfit. Our family had our own Olympic sport of seeing how much ice cream we could shove into our mouths during the timed events. Bode won. 

 And it turns out the Olympics makes us all painfully aware of how much talent we don't have. In order to cope, we watched YouTube videos of Olympic divers belly flopping, and then laughed hysterically at their failures.  We are amazing parents.

 And while we are on the subject of amazing parenting, every time Bode sees a giant hole in the ground, he assumes it is there specifically for him to pee in. I don't even care anymore. 

And, without further ado, I present to you my daughter, AKA woman-child, AKA woman. She is officially wearing my clothes and my shoes and here is the real kicker: She looks better in them than I do. 

Dear God, get me (and her) through this season relatively unscathed. That's all I ask.