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Mother of the Year Goes to.... Not Me

Every morning I go to the gym to exercise. I love it because I have a lot of friends there (it's my adult interaction for the day...hahah...but seriously...), endorphins are released, I feel powerful and strong....etc. Fast forward to about 10 minutes after I arrive home.

Kids are fighting over who grabbed the box of cereal first.

Tears are rolling down cheeks from, "Cameron looked at me in a mean way."

Fights are breaking out between who has to be the flippin' monkey in the middle...

You get the idea.

So pretty much all the good I do at 5:30 in the wee early morning hours gets completely undone. (Perhaps I should schedule my workouts to after the kids leave for school instead?)

Anyway, today was no different. The kids actually all got ready on their own really well without any fights. They had a good 20 minutes to kill before we had to leave for school. They decided to play a game (but not the blasted Monkey in the Middle game...No! No! I banned that game [and 'jinx&#…

Little League Sports

When I was in third grade I became friends with a girl who lived near me. Her name was Melanie Jardine. Her dad, Doug, coached little league basketball and softball. She asked me if I wanted to play, and I figured, “heck, I’ll give it a shot.” This is when we found out I was a natural at sports. The game came so easy to me, and I was the best one on the team. I usually had upwards of 30+ points per game. And oh how I LOVED being in the spotlight. I loved being athletic. I was glad to find out I had some type of talent (as dancing wasn’t my thing—Mom had me take tap from a lady in our ward when I was in kindergarten, and I was so shy and couldn’t remember any of the steps. It was awful, and I always felt so embarrassed. Mom also enrolled me in miniature cheerleading. I wasn’t the best at it, and wasn’t sad to quit after two years. I just didn’t fit in with all those girly-girls). So in the winter/spring, I kept busy playing Jr. Jazz basketball, and in the summers I played softball. I was a natural at softball, too. I always hit home runs, I was the fastest runner, and I even became the pitcher. I’ll admit, the pride got to me. I started becoming really competitive, and it got the best of me. One game I struck out, and it was the first time in two years that had ever happened to me. I was shocked, and ticked. I chucked the bat (and it hit one of my teammates), and yelled at the ump. He ejected me. It was then that I decided I wanted nothing more to do with softball. I quit. And I’ve always regretted it. I’m just glad I stuck with basketball.

Years later we found out that this coach of mine (who was also on the high council in our stake) had an affair. I was devastated to hear the news. I was shocked and couldn't believe it. He and his wife tried to work things out, but it couldn't be done. They divorced.

As I got older I played on a superleague team. My coach for this team was Rick Halliday. He was the dad of one of my friends on the team, Meggan. He was a great coach, but after we got on the high school team he didn't seem like himself anymore. He always looked sick. While on my senior trip with my friends he ended up committing suicide. Apparently he had been really sick for about three years--constantly nauseated and no doctors could figure out what was medically wrong with him. He was a respected judge in downtown Salt Lake, so it took a lot of us by surprise. I had a really hard time with this. I bawled my eyes out. 


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