Lorrie’s Blog

If you have siblings, you have probably wondered, as I have about my three sisters, how you can be raised in the same family and be so very different.

I haven’t spent much time watching the Olympics, although the last couple nights I’ve stayed up far too late watching some of the events. And mostly what I think is, “I just don’t get it.” Like, what’s up with men’s gymnastics? OK, no one would argue that they have incredible upper body definition, but it’s sort of out of proportion to the rest of them. And, are the male divers embarrassed by the lack of fabric from which their swimsuits are made? It’s a good thing they’re in good shape because there is just not much left to the imagination. While I’m watching the Olympics looking for the flaws in these nearly perfect people, my sister, Jennie is watching on the other side of the world and sees something completely different. I read her comments and was shamed at the shallowness of my own observations. I didn’t ask her if it was OK with her if I made her a guest blogger, but I just had to share it. Beautifully said, Jen.
(There is more where this came from … )

On Education
Mom: Did you tell your teacher that you went to Portugal this summer? I bet she’d be impressed.
Nicole: Oh, I thought teacher’s were only impressed when you learned something.

Materialism
Nicole: If you buy me something at the store today I’ll be good while we’re there and not whiny.
Mom: Nic, you should be good because you love me and you want to be a good kid.
Nicole: (without a moment’s hesitation) No, you should buy me something because you love me and because I’m a good kid.

Nationalities
Nicole: Mom, was Jesus Jewish?
Mom: Yes.
Nicole: So, he didn’t speak English?
Mom: Well, no he didn’t speak English. But a lot of people who are Jewish do speak English. Jeff is Jewish.
Nicole: Jeff is Jewish?
Mom: Yes.
Nicole: I wonder if that’s from his cousin or his grandpa?

. . . you’d see that I was smiling from ear to ear. Why? Because today my son went out for the cross country team. OK, so it doesn’t take much to make me happy. It’s just that I love running. Running has changed my life. It is therapy for me. And I have so wished for the last couple years that one of my children would be a runner. But it has not been so. I have even made Jeremy and Katie participate in the Race for the Cure for the last three years hoping that a little taste of racing would spur them on to want to do more. It didn’t work. I have seen a bit of an athlete in Nic, but her legs — though long for someone her age — don’t really make her a very likely running buddy right now. So a week or so ago when Jeremy said, in a sort of off-handed, casual sort of way, that he wanted to go out for cross country, I was shocked. And cautiously pleased. I wanted to ask him if he knew what it was.

Today was his first practice. When he got in the car, he couldn’t stop talking about it. He was excited. He had enjoyed himself. He had done well. And he decided to do it all on his own. I asked him if he would be embarrassed if I came and ran with them some time. At first he said yes, and then he said no, and then he said, “Well, actually I used you for bragging rights. I told them my mom has run a marathon.”

My son, a budding runner. I’m picturing years of running races together, although soon he’ll be faster than me, I’m sure. But I guess I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. For right now, I’m just enjoying the moment. And I haven’t stopped smiling all evening.