Thank you Mom and Dad...

For those of you who know my parents, most of us can agree, they are awesome. They always have been. From letting one of my best friends practically live with us in high school when she didn't want to be home, to the late night get togethers with the living room packed with friends. They always welcome everyone into our family. And I love that about them.

The past few years have not only been tough on me, but on them as well. I can't imagine watching my girls go through similar experiences when they are my age. On top of our family aches and pains, they watched their best friends' daughter lose her battle to cancer at  way too young of an age.

It's definitely not what any parent hopes for their children. And somedays I can see what it has done to my parents. My mom cries sometimes. Especially when I am having a rough day. She tells me it kills her to see me so unhappy. I try explaining that I'm not unhappy, I just get sad sometimes. To me, there is a huge difference. I am a very happy person. I love my kids, my friends, my job and living! I have a wonderful life. Sure, it's been tough, but I am most definitely not unhappy. I understand what she means, though. When she's having a bad day, she sees how I run my life differently than she did when she was my age. For example, my laundry will go a week before I even touch it, dishes may stay in the sink for days and believe it or not, not a single bed will be made for quite some time.

We recently had a heart to heart talk and it dawned on me, why I do things differently. I am in a completely different role than she was when she was my age. She was a stay at home mom, and had a husband who helped support the family and raise the kids. She started working when I was in high school. But just because I am a single mom with a full time business who doesn't do laundry daily or keep a spotless house, doesn't mean my parents haven't taught me anything. They've taught me plenty and they're two of the reason's why I survive what life hands me and continue moving forward. So, this is for them!

What my parents have taught me:

My mom, aka GG, raised me to never give up, especially during hard times. She spent much of her adult life taking care of her dying dad, her aging grandmother and then her aging mother and she never gave up. She sacrificed so much and, though it was difficult, she did it. I think that's one reason why I'm dubbed as "strong" by so many who know me. I learned from the best. Her advice? "Breathe" That is what she would tell me as a child whenever I was sad or scared or upset. "Breathe, Kel, in through your nose, out through your mouth." And that is what I continue doing when times get hard. 

My dad, aka, Dooda, taught me how to laugh at life. He's always cracking jokes and making light of many situations. He has funny names for everything and often has people around him smiling. And every now and then, I let that side slip out of me. 



My mom also taught me how to clean a house. How to really clean. Do I do it every day? No, but when I do, I do a darn good job at it. I get in all the cracks and crannies and it usually ends up taking much longer than I had planned because I have to get all of it! I move the knick knacks and dust under them, I lift the ottoman and vacuum under, I take the stove apart and scrub. And I learned this from her. I remember helping her in the 5th - 8th grade. She and her friend would clean houses and she'd pay me and a friend $2 a house to help! It was awesome. I remember vacuuming our way out of the house so there would be no footprints when the family returned home. I always thought that was so cool.

I love that my dad taught me about sports. I'm definitely proud to say I know what a first down is, how to dribble a basketball or hit a golf ball and of course, how to fish. I can sit and watch sports on tv and actually know what's going on. I even enjoy it! I remember playing HORSE in the front yard for hours with my dad and sister and still love sitting in the boat from sun up to well into the evening chatting and laughing with dad trying to catch fish. 

I also learned how to cook from both of them. I didn't do much of it in the past because when no one in the house will eat the food you cook, it gets boring and feels like a waste of time. But now that my girls are good eaters, I have been doing more of it. And know who to ask if I need help with any recipes. 

And lastly, how to be a good mom... and a good dad. I am extremely proud of the young ladies I am raising. Even with all the pain they've experienced, the girls are respectful and caring and compassionate and that is something I'm very proud of. They are also learning about sports and how not to give up once they've made a commitment. And I wouldn't be able to do it this well without the help of my parents. I'm sure I make mistakes but I am so lucky to have the love and support from two of the awesomest parents I know. 

These are just a few of the gifts my parents have taught me. So mom and dad, thank you. I know I do things a little different than you did, but just know that at the root of all my being, your lessons will always help guide me. 

Two years...

So, two Saturday's ago was the two year mark. And honestly, I can still picture Neil coming home and looking and smelling and sounding exactly as he did on his last day with me. The memories of him are not fading, in fact, they may be a little stronger.

About a week before the anniversary, Marley had a complete melt down at the gym before practice. When I went to talk with her, she just burst into tears and cried, "I miss daddy so much!" I am convinced that she knew the anniversary was coming up, even though I hadn't told her or her sister. I wasn't really sure how to start that conversation. "Hey, guess what Saturday is?" Nope, not that way...the words just didn't come to me...until she cried out. I told her that Saturday marked two years of Daddy dying and she said, "well we should celebrate." I let her choose what we would do and a BBQ with his favorite foods was what she suggested. Saturday came and I still hadn't had the talk with Presley about the day. As I was preparing food in the kitchen she came in and said, "I know what today is. It's daddy's birthday that he died." I said she was sort of correct and that it was the day daddy became an angel. She said, "IT'S DADDY'S ANGEL BIRTHDAY!" Yes, P, it is. And that is what we will call it. Presley has always had an amazing connection and comprehension of his death and I hope that writing it down will always remind us of these moments.

So tonight, I've been thinking about the two years. I wonder how many people think, "it's been two years, when's she gonna get over it?" I think of my friends who's lives have continued running about the same as they were two years ago. And I think of mine...

Two years of no daddy. Two years of birthday parties without him. Two years of loose teeth that fell out. Two years of tooth fairy visits. Two years of boo boos and owies. Two years of falling asleep in the car on late night drives home. Two years of mommy having to carry sleepy girls to bed. Two years of dinners alone. Two years of no golf on the t.v. (unless I turn it on just to hear it) Two years of anniversaries. Two years of new skills at gymnastics. Two years of videoing said skills and not sending them to daddy. Two years of holidays. Two years of Santa, solo. Two years of first days of school. Two years of report cards. Two years of Easter Egg Hunts and Trick or Treating. Two years of Disneyland visits, giggles and smiles, memories and love. Two years.

I don't write this to complain or even to dwell on what I've been handed. I am just amazed at how much two years can do. Two years may seem like a long time and may seem like a blink of an eye. I am sad when I think that my children have been without their daddy for two years of their young lives and will go on the rest of their lives without him. That Presley only knew him for 4 years and Mar for 6 and a half. Just this morning, I was explaining to Marley that this isn't exactly how I pictured my life would turn out when I was a kid, BUT, that I'm surviving these tough times and that we are doing a good job and will continue to have fun and be happy and live life. She agreed and we had the first great day after a couple weeks of a gnarly grief funk.

As I bent down to kiss Marley goodnight tonight, I was taken aback...I leaned in again and smelled her. She giggled and asked what I was doing, to which I shockingly replied, "you smell like daddy." I worried that that would hurt her too much to talk about him, but she just smiled big and a joyful laugh filled the room. Thank you Neil, for these two amazing girls.

Trouble at the Bars...

First Spring Fling without Neil. GG & Dooda came to cheer! 2013

I've been in the sport of gymnastics for over 30 years and I feel like I know the safety rules pretty well. Only one person on the trampoline at a time, never go under a trampoline, don't let a preschooler jump from a mat that's higher than their knees, keep the bars at shoulder height or lower for younger athletes, don't wear jeans or belts, especially on bars. Keep your hair pulled back. And no jewelry.

I have a confession on that last one. I wear a little jewelry while I coach. Nothing big that can poke or scratch a kid,  my wedding band (which I NEVER take off) and usually a small necklace. I remember a necklace pendant hit me in the tooth as a teenager while doing a flip on the trampoline, and OUCH! And I always thought the 'no rings on fingers' rule was to protect the wooden bars. And to be honest, I've demonstrated pull overs and tap swings with my wedding band on one hand and my grandfathers ring on the other for over 10 years and the worst that's happened is a few extra blisters where the ring rubbed my already calloused hand. That is, until last Friday.

I wasn't dressed to coach because Marley and I were leaving early to go to a play. I was helping with a few skills and when the team rotated to bars, I went with them. We now have Level 4's on team and have been adjusting the bars to different heights to work different skills. I noticed one set of bars was a little high for the group working kips, so I lowered the low bar. This in turn, made the high bar look too far away for them to jump to, so they asked if I'd lower that, too. Sure, no problem. I loosened the cables for the second time and turned the knobs. I pulled the pin to lower the bar and it didn't drop. I climbed on the spotting block next to one of our teen athletes and grabbed the wood bar and hung on it to get it to drop down, something we've done many times with this old set of bars. The bar dropped and I felt something jerk my right hand and knew it wasn't good. I went to the bathroom quickly and quietly, trying not to draw attention to myself. A mom popped in to ask if I was ok, and I told her to get Alyssa, my office manager. Alyssa came in and I showed her what happened and told her that I thought I needed to go to the emergency room to get my ring cut off and some stitches.

In the ER before the doctor came in.

You might want to stop scrolling down now, if you have a weak stomach. It's pretty gnarly!



Seven stitches later and my grandfather's ring cut off and I'm lucky to have my finger still attached. So for all your teen gymnasts who moan and groan when you tell them to take off their jewelry, you can show them this. And remind them that I wasn't even swinging on the bars.

My grandfather's ring...

Cutting the ring I've worn for over 20 years off.

The ring is off!

 

See the finger fat coming out? Gross, huh!?!?!

Seven lovely stitches!

Time to go home!

Thankful I have my finger!

The bruises on the other side of my hand.

Day 2 of healing...getting there! My kids have dubbed me "FrankenFinger!"

10 years...

Our friend, Dave, saying such wonderful words on our day.

Tomorrow would have been 10 years. 10 years married to my best friend. 10 years of joy, pain, love, arguments, children, stress, laughter, tears and more. But those 10 years never came. Those 10 years ended at 8 years 3 months 24 days.

BUT I can still hear his voice. I can still see him walk through the door. We were at the park a few months ago with the gym kids doing an exhibition and as I walked through the crowd down the grassy hill, I thought about how much I wanted him to come through the crowd and walk towards me. Knowing him, he'd have rolled his eyes at the crowd and grumbled about the heat but he would have shown up. He'd have shown up for Marley and Presley. He'd have shown up for me.

On our wedding night, neither one of us ate much at the reception, so afterwards we walked around Old Sacramento for about 30 minutes looking for food but nothing was open, so we went to the hotel, changed into sweats and ordered pizza. That was the first of many many anniversary pizza nights. So, tomorrow, the girls and I, will go enjoy a pizza for Neil. To celebrate the man who made me a wife 10 years ago.

Happy Anniversary, Neil.