Mischievous

Dear Tyson,

I knew from this moment on that you were the child that was destined to give me more gray hair than the others ….

It wasn't such a big thing.

You had just decided that you were still very much hungry for applesauce

and your tired mama just happened to leave it out and on the table

without the lid,

when she left the room to attend to your big brother and sister.

It really wasn't your fault that you were still hungry and decided to stick your adorable little two year old fingers into the jar and swipe a handful.

That face of yours in the first photo just about does me in!

Back in those days, I used to keep my camera ready to go and within easy reach

so I, of course grabbed it upon walking in on this scene

knowing that it would be one of those moments that I just couldn't forget.

You look pretty sheepish, eh?

Of course, it didn't stop you from sticking your little mitts back into the jar and going for the gold all over again…

as evidenced by this series of photos.

I could go on and on with stories about how you make us all

smile,

laugh,

scream,

roll our eyes,

bust a gut…

but I don't believe your mama has it in her to write for hours and hours on end!

I am so very thankful for all three of you,

but, you my dear, came around when I our family needed you most.

You made us smile

when we wanted to cry.

You made us laugh

when we wanted to yell.

You made us realize that there was so much more to this life than just existing. 

I relish this mischievous side of you.

This little boy who makes rubber bands sling shot across the room because it's so funny,

who shakes his head in disgust at his crazy family,

who wonders with wide eyed abandon,

whose smile is so big and so wide that everyone around you can't help but grin right back,

who loves beyond measure,

and pulls a fast one better than the very best prankster.

Thank you, little man, for showing all of us what living truly is.

It's Not How Big You Are, But How BIG you PLAY.

Looking back at the blog posts from the past couple of winters there seems to be a recurring theme…

gyms,

sweat,

smiles,

tears, 

friends,

team,

basketball.

As a parent to a couple little ballers, I have to say that I am having a blast watching my kids have fun and learn important life lessons on the court. 

I read stories about parents and coaches pushing their kids and players way beyond what they should these days and it makes me pause and worry…

are we pushing our kids too hard? 

These thoughts immediately disappear, however, when I listen to the excited chatter of my children with their dad (who is attempting to coach both of their teams this year) over a game or a new play learned at practice.

"Dad, did you see that play? Should I have done something different there?"

"Hey dad, what happens when…" 

So far both kids are loving the game and I, as the parent who does not coach them, fully support this love.

Yesterday, Tanner's 5th grade team played in a tournament and had an extremely successful day. 

He and his teammates had all of us parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, brothers, and sisters cheering and beaming as they played their hearts out.

To me, these boys define what a team truly is.

They go out there and have fun, work hard, hustle, and play together.

They make me smile.

Thank you boys for making all of us so proud of you! 

Welcome to LEGO LAND…AKA, our home!

Tyson has been begging to have a friend over nearly everyday lately and since we seem to be taxing the two big kids all around the countryside these days with him begrudgingly in tow, I was hard pressed to say no.

Thankfully his buddy (and our country 'neighbor') was free for the afternoon.

These two guys are both into lego and spent the afternoon building, creating, and playing.

Ty, of course, had the brilliant idea to bring their fun out to the living room where he claimed, 'there was so much more space to build.'

This is the mess…ahem, fun they had all over the rug…yikes.

Anyone want to come over and help clean?

Pretty please?!

I love that he builds so many things now from his imagination instead of just from the instructions.

He isn't too thrilled that he has to pick them all up!

Rackin' up hours in the gym.

When I think back to the way our life was 5 years ago when I began this blog, I remember how busy I thought we were.

We had 3 kids under the age of 6 and were trying to balance family, work, daycare, household chores, the farm, seemingly endless sicknesses, and the list went on and on.

Back in 2011 we were busy, but it was a completely different kind of busy than we are today.

Fast forward 1,825 days and now many of our days look like this….



Yesterday we began our day in the gym at 8:00 am and ended it at 7:30 pm.

After her team played hard in three games and took 3rd overall in their tournament, Madi and I decided to go and watch the MSUM girls basketball team play against Minot State.

We both had a lot of fun watching the Dragon women clinch the win by passing the ball all around the floor with very little dribbling, (we were both wowed to say the least) and shooting some pretty amazing shots.

At one point she looked up at me with a twinkle in her eyes and said, "mom, I can't wait until I can play in college."

Dream big my girl, dream big.

I hope she always keep those BIG dreams and keeps aspiring to them.

Here is a glimpse at our day.

Preserving his story.

Listening to my little girl talk with her friend on the way to gymnastics last week got me thinking, and when I say thinking, I mean really thinking. 

When her friend declared, 'my dad tells us stories about his dad (my grandpa) all the time,' I couldn't help but be a little hurt by her innocent comment.

To me it's funny how life has a way of showing you just what's up…

I don't talk about my dad with my kids as much as I should…(want to, mean to)…I mean, the business of this life just gets in the way.

It's funny how these mundane moments can make you pause and truly think about your life.

That small statement spoke volumes to me.

'My dad tells us stories about our grandpa all the time.' 

Yeah, I can't lie and say that this is true for my kids.

I don't often speak about my dad, their grandpa.

In all honesty, it's just too damn painful.

I want them to know him, but on the other hand, I also don't want to illicit the pain that comes from thinking and talking about him.

But when I think about it, I want them to know the man that made me laugh uncontrollably,

made me roll my eyes and mutter, 'jeez, dad, what are you thinking?!' all the time.

Thankfully, God has other plans, and sees this quietness in my soul and realizes that this isn't how things should be and sends a little 'angel' to remind me what's truly important.

I do need to talk.

It's imperative that I tell my children all about their grandfather including his quirks and idiosyncrasies.

I want need them to know about this amazing man who changed me for the better.

How else can I preserve this amazing man who left this world all too soon?