Extreme Sports

Often people assume that because I enjoy running I also enjoy other sports. The truth is, I know impressively/embarrassingly little about other sports, both the rules and the mechanics of them. I grew up in a basketball family, with my dad and four siblings all total basketballers. Basketball has always seemed too extreme for my taste, what with all of the loud shouting and biased coaching, not to mention that large hard ball flying at my face repeatedly.

During third grade I played one season of basketball to prove to myself and my enthusiastic dad that it was not for me. The first time I found myself alone with the ball during a game, I knew I had to get rid of it fast before the other players attacked me, so I desperately heaved that heavy sphere up towards the nearest basket, achieving a spectacular air-ball on the opposing team’s hoop. That was the only shot I ever came close to taking, and it was equally terrifying and mortifying. At the age of eight I permanently and gratefully retired from the chaos, noise, and pressure of basketball. To my family’s credit, nobody ever asked me or expected me to play basketball again.

When I was trying to think of a caption for my beloved traditional [chaotic] Mother’s Day picture with my kids on Sunday, the phrase “motherhood is an extreme sport” kept coming to mind. Motherhood is totally an extreme sport! Just like basketball, motherhood is loud, exhausting, endless, messy, stressful, confusing, and demanding. Unlike basketball, motherhood is worth it all and more. Thankfully, motherhood also includes sweet quiet happy delightful parts alongside the chaos (unlike basketball). I know that basketball is not widely recognized as an extreme sport, but it is the most extreme sport I have ever participated in and it sure felt extreme to me.

Motherhood is the only extreme sport I’m interested in!

MOTHER’S DAY 2018: All I ever really want for mother’s day is a kind note from each of my kids and a picture of me with all of my kids. I would love to have a “day off” but that is not realistic. I know from experience that wishing someone else would clean up breakfast milk puddles does not make it happen! So on Sunday morning I cleaned up the breakfast dishes and milky drips. I know from experience that when a toddler removes her own poopy diaper on the carpet, there is zero time to sit back and expect someone else to take care of the situation. So when Amber dropped her full dipe on Sunday morning, I jumped in there and cleaned it up.

I’m starting to realize (however reluctantly) that Mother’s Day is not about giving the mom a break. It’s about showing love for her. One way to show love to the mom is to give her a break, but (sigh) that is not the only way. Showing love to the mom looks different in different families and changes with the stage of life the family is in. It’s the thought that counts. And the yearly picture!

Here’s how the rest of Mother’s Day love looked in the White house this year:

• Jay and Rose gave me cute notes that they wrote at school.
• My sweet mother in law gave me beautiful peonies which opened up into enormous puffy pink plumes.
•  Jeff gave an excellent talk at church about personal revelation.
• The kids sang to the mothers in front of the whole ward with my shaky piano playing in the background.
• At the end of church, everyone went to the gym where the kids sang “Mother I Love You” and handed all the women potted flowers with homemade cards stabbed in the soil.
• For lunch, we ate the food my dear mom brought us when she visited the day before.
• Rose and I clipped some of our early pink roses and brought them to Grama Leslie at the family dinner.
• We had a pleasant White family Mother’s Day dinner in Grandview at Grampa Dan’s house.
• At home before bedtime, we watched some baby videos of cute little baby Jay, Rose, and Amber.

THE PICTURES: Corralling Jay, Rose, and Amber (mostly Amber) for five entire consecutive minutes to snap a picture proved to be too difficult, so we did two mini 3-minute photo shoots with a run-around-the-yard intermission between them. Honestly, that run-around-the-yard intermission was not exactly planned, but when it happened, we rolled with it. Since we took the pictures right after breakfast, I forgot about the magical motivational properties of sugar during family photo-thons. In lieu of bribing the kids with candy, we set the camera on rapid-fire and Jeff held down the button.

Rose made me two cards and even gave me three crumpled one dollar bills, refusing to take them back when I offered. She gave me her $3 with all the love in her big heart, cutie pie. In their notes, both Jay and Rose mentioned how I like horses. I think it’s so cute how kids view affirmations of their interests as compliments. They know I loved horses when I was growing up, so they made sure to add that detail to their letters.

Jay and his faces! I don’t know if he thinks he’s smiling or if he’s just rebelling against the photographic institution. Jay is mysterious like that.

Amber was in rare form, dashing away at such speeds that made it difficult for adults in Sunday clothes to catch her.

 My non-twin twins, born 20 months apart.

The goofy pictures almost always end up being my favorites because they are bursting with personality.

*disclaimer: my opinions of basketball are my own, and I realize that millions of people feel differently. I still love you, Dad! It’s ok to like basketball, and it’s just as ok not to like it! Live and let live.