The Best Gift- published 2/21/15

I was kneeling on the floor helping Beach carefully box up 3 medals made of glass. 

Beach was far more fascinated by the boxes than the awards she had won. As soon as they announced boxes were available she rushed to get hers. 

She showed me the silky interior, the indented circle for the medal face, and announced the color was the "best" blue. 

"Aren't these boxes just beautiful?" She asked me holding them up.  

I was kneeling at her feet looking up into her smiling face thinking how lucky I was to have this kid in my life when I heard a mom from the sea of people squeezing by us say, "No, you leave those on I want people to see them when I am walking with you." 

As the woman twisted to grab the shoulders of her child our eyes met.   

Practically standing over me she looked down on me and at the stack of boxes in my hand, and then to Beach. 

Smiling Beach. 
Smiling, struggling Beach. 

The kid fighting a 10-second pause on beam before her series- the series she fell on. The kid asking from the backseat of the car through tears, "When is my dad coming back?" Wonderful, funny, honest, sweet Beach.

The look on the woman's face gave me the feeling we were the last pair of people she would have wanted to have heard her say that.

Her daughter looked at Beach, passing a weak smile of recognition; they had been on the podium together. Then awkwardly under the weight of her mother, she was taken away.

At first Beach and I just stared at each, both us feeling almost guilty for them witnessing us being us, and us seeing them being them. 

In the wake of them, I didn't know what to say to my own child but she knew what needed to be said. 

"That was really sad, mom. I feel bad for that girl- and her mom. That must really suck."

I stood up and Beach asked, "Can I see one of the boxes, they are so cool!"  

the size of the fight

I'm not going to tell you a story so don't ask.  It's not that exciting anyway and you will live not to know the exact details.  

In fact, go ahead and insert any G-rated storyline you like- it's all the same for the purposes here. It's not the point.  It doesn't matter. 

What I am going to tell you is how proud of my child I am.  

Sometimes it is easy to stand up for what you believe in and sometimes it's not.  

Sometimes it will cost you something you have worked hard for; hurt for, cried for.

I have said many times that Beach is a fighter.  If she was in public school she would always be in some kind of trouble. That sweet smiling kid is more than she appears.  She has a strong internal sense of social justice. Constantly on the side of the underdog.  If she believes something isn't right, she won't leave it alone. 

She is innately good.  Kind, generous, thoughtful, and smart.  These things help because that much fight poured into the wrong type of moral character would be dangerous. 

This is why gymnastics works so well for her; most days you get out what you put in, gravity is fair to everyone, the equipment is predicable stoic, and you support your team no matter what. 

She also has a built-in drive to collect the herd- to team build and to belong. She sees her team and her friends as part of her and she part of them. 

Yesterday she did what she thought was right despite thinking her parents would both be mad. In fact, believing all the adults around her could possibly be angry. 

Remember a time you did that.  A time you made a choice (the right choice in your heart) and voiced it knowing it would piss off everyone you loved.  

Despite the price tag literal and metaphoric, she stood her ground. 

As she told me the events, her words, and her choice I realized I was listening to the words of a true Leader. 

Whether or not one agrees with her (or what she was fighting for) she stood up for what she believed in.  

She fought for someone else giving everything she could. Everything she had to offer. 

She didn't solve world peace or stop global warming. She didn't even win the fight. The issue will be talked through by the real parties involved and forgotten. 

What matters is the willingness to stand up and say your truth. To fight for what you believe in.  There isn't enough of that going around these days. 

Somehow I have returned to running and to writing. Those 2 things go together for me.  But so do the nightmares.  Running fuels them.  They feed off sore muscles and adrenaline. 

Last night after Beach spilled her story to me and left my bed I fell asleep to the old whispers.  Old dreams, old ghosts, old monsters.

Sometime in the night, I dreamt of a room filled with party-goers; a mix of prom and little kids at Halloween.  I asked a question and Beach answered, "Ask Wendi."  

I turned to see my sister sitting beside Beach on a stool.  A perfect 16-year-old Wendi.  The way I remember her when she was my best friend. Before all the boys and the beer and the drugs took her away. 

Wendi said nothing she simply smiled pastel and papery. 

"How did Wendi get back here?" I asked Beach.  Because it's been a long time since I have seen her in my dreams.

"Oh, she's with me, "Beach answered. 

I suppose she is now... perhaps that only makes sense to me. But like I said that sort of fight in the wrong hands can be dangerous. In the right ones, it will save us all. 

the things we do for love

I have done one and a half loads of laundry.  Changed the sheets on our bed including the duvet cover- what a serious pain that is!

Prepared dinner for tonight; an elk roast in a rich red tomato jalapeno broth with seeping garlic and heavy tones of black pepper, a side of creamy mashed potatoes for Beach and BC, and a dryish smashed yam for myself, green salad.

For dessert, a peanut butter brownie pie made with the following substitutions and/or additions: apple sauce, greek yogurt, oatmeal, and hand mashed black beans.

I have emptied and loaded the dishwasher twice, cleaned out the fridge, vacuumed three rooms, sorted the bills, trimmed and rearranged the flowers, fed the dogs and the cats, swept the mudroom, took out the trash, cleaned one of the two bathrooms, put a hundred things back where they go... and now that I think about it before doing all that I made breakfast, cleaned it up, and worked out.

The one thing I did not do was run Beach to work, BC did because he had extra time this morning.

While abandoning his coffee mug in the middle of the kitchen BC asked what the occasion was for all the work I was doing.  Well, it's Thursday... 

The special occasion is this is our one and only life.  

I do most of these things or things like them every day that I can. These are some of the last days for our little family to be together as we are now.  They are also some of the first days on the next adventure for each of us.

Beach is 16.  The closer she gets to a decision about her future in gymnastics the closer I see the end of this life and the start of something new.  Where and what that looks like I don't know.

All of her siblings are out on their own. Each took a different path. The talk of colleges beyond the idea of gymnastics is only now beginning. Driver's Education which had been on hold is now scheduled.

We have two years before she graduates from high school.  But two years?! That's not very long in the heart of a mother.

I am laying down the final pieces of a road that has taken us from where we began to where we are now.  A road that she will branch from to take out to the world beyond.  A road I want to make so wide and open and strong that she will always be able to find it again. No matter where she goes. 

Some of it I am repaving. The return of nightly desserts, family game night, and a family read-aloud novel.  Projects and Nova. Thoughts of spring camping and summer hikes.  Complex plans for the garden.  Our life as it was when they were all little.  Life slow and predictable. Well, as predictable as life can be with BC. Some of the stones are new. Adventures in Art and Fashion, a wild muddy Cowdog, and a woodshop with a big idea.

The smell of clean laundry, the memories of healthy homemade food, all the colors of the dishes put neatly away, and the sounds of childhood on newly swept floors.  There is a lot to do.  There is a lot that won't get done.  Dinners will burn, pies will not turn out but the love inside the work, inside the hours and the days that's what matters. The making of a home with open doors and sleeping cats.

Every day is a special occasion.  

Every day there is a reason to live your life as big as you can. 

Grandpa and Grandma Brown

carry on

It hasn't felt the same.  Meet Season 2020: Soft Landing, RMI... Beach is only competing in one event. 

It's like a rock concert raging in the night has been turned turn to a gentle hum inside an elevator. 

The stress of how she is doing every day has been our main event.  

Practice has been the proving ground.  We bounce between the chiropractor and PT.  

Beach balances her workload at the gym hour by hour, day by day. Meets have become some strange pageant she's not really participating in. 

And yet the final numbers at PT were good. She is stronger and more flexible. Armed with exercises to keep her back and core strong and healthy. She was released to carry on, encouraged to fight. She is winning back one event at a time. Climbing back up the skills ladder.

Not only is she adding skills but doing it while getting her pain under control. 

No, it's not the same when you have an injured athlete.  You watch the clock working against you. The game isn't much fun.  The lessons are longer.  The work slow.  The progress never fast enough.

I am finding as we enter Travel Season it is the same.  It starts with lists of things to buy and do. House sitters, weather patterns, car snacks, Leo's... the same.  The same questions and even the same excitement. 

I hate the moments before the unknown.  The tight smiles and nervous legs. The long walk to the venues.  The first looks, the last looks, the goodbyes and good lucks.

I don't know if her watered-down vault can get her a number she would be proud of.  I know for me, seeing the last 2 scores made my heart sink. I was so sad for her.  Never disappointed but yeah, honestly sad.  It's hard to watch.

She competed a pike in the last 2 Meets (9.7 start value) both scored well below at 9.0.  Rumor is she might attempt a layout at Lady Luck. 

Each day she gets stronger.  Each day she makes gains. Little by little the Beach I know is returning. 

Snow is in the forecast for the first half of the drive. We plan to drive through it in the thinnest forecasted window we can find.  After that, well, who knows but I find myself brave enough to hope for sunny skies. 

To All the Little Giants of GTC,

Good Luck at Lady Luck! 

See you in Vegas!!!

Meet Season 2020

I don't know what to say about it.  We are 2 Meets in.  Soft Landing back in December and The Rocky Mountain Invitational (RMI host gym GTC) have both come and gone.  

Beach was able to Vault at both. PreSeason I had laughed at the thought that she would be vaulting again by either! She always amazes me <3 

Not her fancy twisting vault but we are hoping to see it return soon. 

She is working towards adding Floor next. She has her tumbling passes on the rod floor which I would say is little over half-way there.

Ahead of us this season is Lady Luck in Las Vegas, Metroplex in Texas, Pike's Peak, Colorado, Winter Classic Park City, Utah, some Meet deep in California, and then State. 

Beach has always been able to do what she needs to do when she needs to do it. 

She's in the gym every day working hard, conditioning, adding back skills, 2 steps forward, and 1 step back at a time. 

She is making her way.  We are going forward.  Meet Season 2020 is on! 

Chewy Oatmeal Cookies

Chewy Oatmeal Cookies

Ingredients

1 cup light brown sugar packed
1 cup white sugar
½ cup butter, at room temperature
½ cup greek plain yogurt
2 large eggs
1/2 tablespoon pure vanilla extract
½ teaspoon cinnamon 
2 and 1/2 cups oats
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
1 cup white flour
½ cup whole wheat flour
¼ cup soybean flour
¼ cup coconut flour
2 cups. milk chocolate chips

Instructions

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees Line a large sheet pan with parchment paper.
In a large bowl, mix the brown sugar, white sugar, yogurt, and butter until creamy. The mixture should look like peanut butter.
Add the eggs, cinnamon, and vanilla extract. Beat until combined.
In a separate bowl, combine oats, baking powder, baking soda, sea salt, flour, and chocolate chips. Whisk until combined.
Add the dry to the wet and mix until just combined being careful to not overmix.
Roll out golf-ball sized dough balls and place 2 inches apart on the prepared baking sheet. Bake 6-8 minutes or until just lightly golden brown. Watch carefully to avoid over-baking; slightly under-baked oatmeal cookies make the best chewy cookies!

white notes

Good morning, our country seems to be at war. The coffee is full and hot but I lost one of the two dogs.  And not the one you think it would be.

I spent more time searching for Beach's Comp jacket.  Our house seems very big at 4AM. What I found is that we have a lot of little clothing that falls in the same category.  However, none of them is that jacket.

It's okay, we are made of money- I'm sure of it. Anyway, she can just wear a different jacket.  Maybe her ski jacket or her faux-fur coat- she'd look great! Or even better she could wear a different little black gym jacket at each event!!! That's really more her style.

Beach's session starts at 9:30... I think. Maybe we should ask someone who works there.  They should know.

I can't remember what time I told Beach we needed to be there so I will announce we are leaving when she looks like she is 95% ready to go.  Please don't blow it for me and ask what time I am leaving.

Please feed the dogs.  I have found the other one. There is a half pot of warm coffee and some sliced fruit. ham, and boiled eggs for your breakfast.

I fed the cats. Sorry about the ham.

My car needs gas but I am going to be gone for the next 2 days until after the pumps at Costco close. If you want to go pick up my car and gas it for me you can- if you can find it.  We have to park off-site.  I can text your address.  It will be fun, like geocaching but not really.

You will have to get your own dinner.  Please save me a beer (or 2).  But I will see you when you come up to watch Beach vault.  It will be like old times, you and me in a crowded gym waiting, and waiting, and waiting...

Still no jacket. And it turns out I was wrong about there being coffee.  You might want to make yourself some and if you wouldn't mind bringing me up a cup when you come, that would be amazing!

Turns out I was wrong about fruit and eggs too.  Perhaps the chickens will lay early today.  If not there is leftover pizza in the fridge.

Gotta run,

Misty