Funny, Funny, Fat Things Part 2

Julian is best friends with my sister's little girl, Penny. They're always looking out for each other and Penny is happy to play Power Rangers--she just wants to be the pink one. Because they get along so well, Katie and I get them together a lot (which gives me a break from being Pink Power Ranger.  Although, I really look awesome in my pink high waisted shorts and midriff shirt).

 One day when I was getting the kids in the car to take Penny back home, I was buckling her into her booster seat when she patted my chest and said, "Jaynie, you have boobies." (Look what Katie teaches her kids!)
Surprised, but not really, I said, "Yes I do."
"Because all mommies have boobies." Penny stated, matter-of-factly.
"Yeah, but my mommy's are SO big." came Julian, deciding to join the conversation.
Then Penny, "But my mommy's are not so big. They're just little."
Then Julian, "But my mommy's are SO big."

Which reminded me of the time I left a highlighted verse of Solomon's Song on Katie's bed in high school.  Chapter 8, verse 8: "We have a little sister, and she hath no breasts: what shall we do for our sister in the day when she shall be spoken for?"
 I also left a biology text book open to a page with the male anatomy on it for her.  Twice.  (I was always looking out for her!)

Unfortunately, if you inserted "love handles" in place of "boobies" in the conversation, it would still hold true.  I'm thanking heaven that Solomon left out the older sisters verses!

In Case You Were Having a Bad Day

5K-K-K-Kount Me Out!

As we near the end of the school year, with it's track meets and testing, I'm reminded of when running and testing joined forces when I was a kid.  The program was called AAU.  It stood for something, but I can't remember what it was.  Athletic? America? Uncomfortable?  I don't know.  But it seems like some president, in an effort to "keep American kids fit," had us all involved in a mandatory athletic program where we were tested at the beginning, middle and end of the school year.  We had to do chin-ups (or the chin hang for girls) the wall sit, sit ups, and running.  Was there more?  Good heavens, I don't know.  But I do know I dreaded that running.  I wasn't a fan of the other stuff either, but the running--oh the running.  It seemed so long, the running.  Looking back, it was probably a mile (or less) but the pressure to beat your score from before was intense (intense, I tell you!).  It seriously seemed like the President himself (Reagan, now that I'm thinking of it) was going to come to your school and talk about you being unfit if you didn't improve your score. 

So I ran.  I dreaded the end of year run more than the end of year tests.  Those eight times around the blacktop just couldn't have been less welcomed--even at the time of year when the world is welcoming everything.  I've never liked running since.

You're not going to believe this, but someone came up with an AAU for adults.  Only instead of  being mandatory, it is completely voluntary.  And not only that, there is a charge for these kinds of AAUs.  And typically, the more times you have to run around the blacktop (or through the city along orange cones) the more you have to pay.  Some of the AAU's are called 5Ks.  Other AAUs are called half marathons and the big daddy of the AAUs is the marathon. 

It seems completely ridiculous, but people actually sign up!  They volunteer to run in the heat, with a pack of other disillusioned people and they pay money to do it!  At times I've wanted to stop a few of them and tell them it is free to run in my neighborhood.  And, just to make sure, I'd let them know that the AAU program has been over for a few years and they actually didn't have to subject themselves to the torture anymore.

Then I got a better idea.  Since it appears that the organizers of these adult AAU programs are making some good money (Our school needs pencils--come pay us to run!) I decided, I'd better keep this trend alive before all these adults find out that no one is keeping track of their score anymore.  I've decided to have a Help Jayne remodel her bathroom 5K.  It is going to be sometime in June (I'm really anxious to start tiling) and I'll set up some cones around my block.  I'll have to drive around and find out how many times you'll have to run around to make it a 5K, but I've got time.  Hazel and Parley will set up a drink station with my hose and if there's enough money left over, after I've bought the new sinks and toilets, I'll get some popsicles.  Likely those twin pops though, don't get your hopes up.  Those juice bars can get pricey.  $25 will get you a ticket to run in my 5K, and that includes a paper number taped to your back.  Julian is practicing his numbers, and I don't like to waste the paper.  You might all be number 1, but that's really all anyone wants to be anyway, right?

So, June 17 (I just looked at my calendar and it's free).  Plan on it.  10 a.m. at my house and all around the block.  I will also set up a bar for chin-ups, and my wall will be free for the wall-sit.  That will cost extra though.

The Bragging Police

Remember how when we were kids we were taught not to brag? Older siblings and cousins would be the first to call you out on it, letting you know that what you said was, indeed, bragging. A few loud reminders like that, in front of other neighborhood kids was enough to remind us: nobody likes bragging.

 It must've been confusing for us back then, with all the praise our parents give us, to suddenly have to keep our awesomeness to ourselves. It reminds me of when I was a fifth grader in P.E. It meant a great deal to me to be good at sports back then (what? Is that surprising?) because my best friend and cousin, Jesse, was so athletic. I was always trying to impress him, so when a BYU basketball player came to visit our P.E. class and teach a few skills, I was anxious to show my stuff. After an hour of dribbling around cones and free throw shots, I felt pretty confident that I was the star I imagined myself to be. We lined up to head back to the classroom and the BYU player praised our class aloud to Mrs. Busco.

 "There was one boy and one girl that I noticed had a lot of ability out there on the court." he said, and then found Jesse in the boy line next to me. "There he is, what is your name?" he asked him. While Jesse answered, I waited, sure he'd point me out next. "I'm not sure which girl it was I noticed before, but you all did well." he said, casually. My mind raced. He was about to leave and I would never know if it was, indeed, me, who was so exceptional out there on the court. It had to be me, right? I had to know. I couldn't imagine always wondering. And I certainly needed Jesse to know that it was me. It wasn't enough if only I knew. I raised my hand.

"Was it me?" I questioned desperately.

Surprised, the BYU player looked at me with my hand raised, and having been put on the spot so suddenly said, "Uh yes, yes I think it was you."

It was at that moment that the reminding reprimands of my older cousins and neighbors came into my head "That's like bragging Jayne!" and I sheepishly put my hand back down.

I learned my lesson about bragging that day, (especially when it comes to basketball--I hate to make people feel bad because I'm so amazing) and it seemed for the most part, that most people around me did too.  But then the internet came and blurred everybody's vision and told everyone bragging was the new awesome.  In fact, it gave us multiple platforms where we could brag up and down about ourselves.  We can become friends with people we know and post the most flattering pictures of ourselves  and talk about our homemade items.  If we only have a little time, we can just write a sentence or two about our romantic vacation and send it out across the interwaves.  If our dinner was super awesome, we can take a quick pic (oh, that's picture guys) and then everyone can feel like they were there right at our side.  And if we want to, we can post videos about our big muscles,  how patient we are, and how much money we make.  And I don't know about you, but I'm starting to feel like one of those lame-os who wasn't the one picked as being a star on the 5th grade basketball court (SO glad that wasn't me!) because, yikes, I can't do any of that awesome stuff!

I am just warning you: I've heard that the Bragging Police is out there.  He is trying to bust braggers and remind us of the good old fashioned lessons we learned back when we were kids: save your bragging for when a really important person is around and you want to look good in front of your athletic cousin.

Tuned Into Conference



Hazel
Parley
Julian
19 cats
3 bears
1 elephant
5 dogs
1 frog
1 monkey
2 bunnies
1 lion
1 mystery animal (related to the cat family)
2 hamster balls
3 power rangers
Penguin
Darth Vader
Two Face
& Batman

I looked over during the first session and noted that Darth Vader was looking quite ashamed at talk of needed repentance. Batman looked at Penguin and Two Face several times boasting an "I told you so." For his sake, I hope there isn't a talk about pride tomorrow.

Good Morning!

Friendship


From top left circled in bulldog green, Nick, Jesse, Lori, Jed, me. Emily must be next to me, but cut off (sorry, Em) others, not circled are totally awesome people who went to Provo High with us.

I could always count on a group of guy friends because of Jesse. Jesse, my cousin, but more like my twin brother, grew up across the street from me. He was adored by all, but mostly by me. So until I met Jed, my "boyfriend" each year was Jesse's best friend. He always set me up with the best--which is how I met Nick. It was the beginning of my 7th grade year, and there was a dance on the tennis courts. Jesse knew Nick from sports, and he told me I should like him. I danced with him a couple of times, while Jesse gave me the thumbs up from behind, and soon we were 'going out'. Which, really meant, we were writing notes to each other sometimes, and dancing together sometimes at the dances. I knew I was special to be Nick's girlfriend. Like I said, Jesse only set me up with the best.

Lori and Emily were my best friends. We'd take turns sleeping at each others' houses and their families became second families to me. I used their phone numbers so frequently, I still have them committed to memory. Emily's dad was sure she should marry Jesse, which may be why he didn't mind having me around so much.

As the years went on, Jesse's friends were my friends, and mine were his. They would shoot spit wads at us from the back of the class and tease us as we walked down the hall, but somehow, we managed to stay good friends.

Emily and I both got to claim Nick as a boyfriend for different times of our junior high days, but in the end, he lucked out and married Lori. They are a perfect pair and have made three beautiful children who are a fantastic mix of them both.

This past Saturday, Emily and I went to a funeral to commemorate the life of Nick's youngest brother CJ. The service was beautiful, and Nick's address brought me to tears several times. As I looked around the chapel at the many people there to celebrate this good man's life, I recognized the backs of several heads. Sprinkled throughout the crowd were those boys who used to shoot the spit wads and try and put us in garbage cans. This time, without their straws, and with handsome suits. As I watched them, there to support their dear friend, I was so moved. I thought about life, and all the aspects of it. Of how growing up, with all its hardships, helps us to be strong with each other and for each other. Looking at those boys, now men and fathers, now somber and serious, was a beautiful sight. With Emily next to me, looking up at Lori and her new (less than a week old) baby, I was overcome with gratitude for friends, and the journey of becoming friends.