Happy Birthday Gage

So it's that time again. It seems a little shocking every year. And now he's 15.

Home away from home

So it's my favorite time of year. Watching Gage play baseball makes me incredibly happy and sometimes incredibly frustrated depending on the team he's playing against...but mostly just really happy.

Getting to sit outside in the sun, eat millions of sunflower seeds, and cheer until I have no voice. Perfection.

The next few months will be crazy and I can't wait. This week alone he has three games for high school and tryouts for traveling. His birthday is Thursday (15!!!) and he'll spend most of that day on a baseball field.

Layla is much better about going to games now. She only watches when Gage is at bat. When he's not, she reads. She doesn't complain about going to the games anymore. It helps that Cup N Cone is less than a block away.

So, if you want to see us before September, you'll have to stop by a baseball diamond. That's where we'll be.

Can't stop taking her picture

My brain doesn't like me

So in my 34 years on this earth I have been worried for at least half of them. What do I worry about? Everything and nothing at all.

Examples include...

After Gage was born I always thought something terrible would happen to him if I wasn't with him all of the time.

After Layla was born it was even worse and I literally was with her all of the time.

Hearing sirens in the distance puts a fear inside of me that those sirens are, of course, headed to one of my children who must be seriously injured.

When the clock strikes one minute past the time a family member is supposed to walk in the door instantly my mind has them stuck in a ditch somewhere having barely survived a horrible car accident.

If the phone rings past 9 pm a surge of panic hits because the ONLY reason a phone rings that late is with horrible life changing news of someone's hospitalization or death.

When Layla sleeps at someone's house (with the exception of her BFF) I worry that maybe, possibly they won't watch her the way they would watch their own kids and something horrible will happen to her.

When Gage sleeps at someone's house I just know that he's going to sneak out and do something incredibly stupid and get himself hurt or in trouble.

When Nick is in a bad mood I worry that I must have done something wrong or not done something that I should have and he's going to get sick of me and leave.

None of these worries are logical. I know that. My brain just runs on imagination overdrive. It likes to think the worst...obviously.

Does anyone else's brain hate them as much as mine clearly hates me?

Sun burn and sunflower seeds

So I spent my day on the hammock. In shorts. My thighs are burned and my mouth is raw from all of the sunflower seeds.

Lovely day.

The Deep Sigh

So we got a new furnace today and in order for the guy to get it to the furnace room he had to go through Gage's room. That meant his room had to be cleaned and rearranged last night.

No biggie...if Gage and I do it together it'll take no time.

But wait. Gage has homework that he's really excited about doing all of a sudden. Fine. I'll start and you hurry up and finish your homework.

I get started (and start sneezing from all the dirt and dust) and he comes down after about 15 minutes. I'm thinking that's great because there's a lot to do.

He asked if we could get Limewire on the computer so he won't have to pay for songs anymore.

Um...thought he was doing homework. Apparently he was taking a "break". He takes a lot of those. So, he says he's really gonna go do his homework now.

A freaking hour later he comes back down just as I am wrapping the cord up for the vacuum cleaner. Of course, I did it all myself.

I'm standing there kind of waiting for my praise. Nothing. I tell him that he'll have to reset his alarm clock because I had to unplug it and move it because I moved his bed and it wouldn't work where it was.

So then he looks over at the clock and he...DEEP SIGHS! Like I didn't just do all the work. The heavy lifting, the dust inhaling, the moving of 500 pieces of sporting equipment and the picking up of countless clothing (clean or dirty? I had no clue) and the kid deep sighs that he has to push a button a few times.

Sometimes I don't know why I bother.

The "deep sigh" and "whatever". Two thing that make me question whether I am really ready to parent a teenager.

Allergies

So it's that time of year again. The time of year that makes my eyes turn into itchy, watery puddles of hurt and my nose run and burn at the same time.

Ahh...Spring. I still love every second of it. Even when I can't see through the tears.