Eye of the Tiger

My new favorite place in the world is the YMCA. I tried to join a year ago but my daughter, Mary, was vehemently opposed to being left in the child care room with the staff members who would grimace when I inquired about how she'd held up in my absence. Last week I had a chance to try again when my older kids started taking swimming lessons. "Do you want to stay in here and play with toys?" I asked her, and apparently she had forgotten her past trauma of being abandoned by her out of shape mother because this time she DID want to play and there were no bloodshot eyes and tearstained cheeks upon my return. Since then, I've been going every single day because my "I simply do NOT have time to exercise or twist open the cap on my vitamins" excuse has been taking a tremendous toll upon my mind, body, and emotions. Can you believe they let me drop off all four of my children so I can work up a sweat uninterrupted? Energy and sanity...here I come!

I am sitting in the morning at the diner on the corner...

Last night after work, my husband, Troy, was greeted as he walked through our back door by this adorable little waitress in the yellow apron. "Welcome to the Sabourin Restaurant," she announced (in an English accent) while classical music played in the background and lit candles created a formal feel in our "all roosters all the time" kitchen (notice the placemats). In this photo, he is asking a few questions about the specials.

As you can see, the choices were limited but Troy certainly appreciated the great service! "Everything is free!" Priscilla had explained to him. If only...

I need a latte, a cappuccino, and then tonight I'll think have a little vino...

My son, Elijah, is a true connoisseur of comics, studying methods and techinques with scholarly interest. Here is one of is own single panel creations from his "Kitchen Comics" series. Of course, I, as his unbiased mother, found it to be brilliant! :)

Forever Young

Just so you know, today's photo blog is being sponsored by Aqua Net Hairspray (the aerosol version, of course) and Primo perfume. The year is 1989, and I am cheerleading my little old heart out because school spirit is my EVERYTHING along with "Big Gulps" from 7-11 and the movie Beaches. It isn't easy performing hurkeys while wearing three- inch-wide hoop earrings, but I will gladly sacrifice comfort for the sake of my squad now inspiring, through our stiffness, the Lancer's offensive line (it is offense, right?) to score a touchdown.
Ahh, High School...how humiliating.

I can't live, with or without you!

At 6:30 this morning, Ben was standing by my bed in his swim suit asking how many more minutes he'd have to wait before his swimming lessons started. "Three hours," I groaned, both to him and to myself knowing that I would be answering that exact same question a thousand different times while brushing my teeth, making breakfast, and searching the house for our sunscreen and beach towels. He was dying to go to the pool. The photo above basically sums up how Ben's much anticipated "lesson" actually turned out: for half-an-hour this sweet and auburn-haired instructor tried every trick in the book to coax him into the water, but alas he'd have NONE of it!Benjamin, it turns out, is only in love with the idea of swimming, the look of goggles on his face, and the smell of Coppertone on his browning skin. "Don't worry, tomorrow is a new day." she assured me.

P.S. - I have, by the way, started challenging myself to think of song lyrics to go with the photos because I'm addicted to inane mental stimulation. Some might be a stretch so please remember just to think outside the box a little.

Take my hand, take my whole life too...

Priscilla, even when sound asleep, will automatically curl into my warmth when I lie next to her. It is here, while snuggled up against her skin and listening to the steadiness of her breathing, that I'm most struck by how divine and utterly enormous is a mother's instinctive love for her children.

Slow down, you move too fast...

Here is the sweet card from my daughter, Priscilla, that I found on the couch I would crash on for most of the afternoon because I always, always, always learn the hard way that pushing myself too hard without the proper amounts of sleep or nutrients results in ridiculousness. It was a throat infection this time, preceded by two days of heachaches and exhaustion. When will it finally sink in that set limits represent wisdom, not weakness?