Archives for category: Family

Growing up in the 50s and 60s, there weren’t a lot of organized sports for kids.  We played the usual at school and learned softball/baseball, soccer, tetherball, etc.  At home, we played workup and kicked the ball around and were always doing something outside, just not very organized except to us.  I took golf lessons and swimming lessons, but there weren’t any teams for a girl to be on.  We had intramural basketball and some other sports in high school.  My brother played baseball when he was a kid, but I only remember going to a couple of games and we sat on the sides in the dirt.  The coach took the team in his car for ice cream sometimes.  My husband played baseball through junior high and there were, of course, teams in all the sports for the boys.  I had a couple of trophies, mainly for jr. golf tournaments or an occasional  swim medal on the 4th of July.

I’ll have to take partial blame for what my generation did to sports.  As parents of three girls and a boy, we made sure they were exposed to just about everything from music to scouting to church to sports.  Between my four, there were lessons or teams in these sports through the years:  soccer (all four played and one went through college on a partial scholarship, one of the first group of girls to get one), swimming (all four swam competitively), golf, tennis, softball/baseball, football, ice skating, track, basketball.  What’s left?  It was a time to encourage girls that they too could be a champion in whatever they wanted to do.

Clayton the football playerMostly, our fields were pretty primitive, barely mowed for play.  Uniforms were basic t-shirts or homemade when my girls started soccer.  There were no cleats.  That market grew quickly and they soon looked like mini-pros.  Still pretty basic though.

Scan 5I’ve been a scorekeeper and a timekeeper and mostly a carpooler.  On Saturdays, my husband worked and I drove all over the place.  I also drove to all the practices and lessons, often on all sides of town the same day.  (How many years was that?  Let’s say 20 years.  I shouldn’t have figured that out.) We didn’t encourage the new competitive leagues because it was too much of a burden on the family, travel, time and money wise to devote that much to just one of the kids.  The one who went that direction excelled on her high school team and got the scholarship anyway.

Scan 15I worked for many years at the local ice rink, doing marketing and working with the families.  I talked to aspiring Olympic moms and dads, telling them the benefits of the sport without giving them false hope their talented child would be one of the extremely few who made the Olympic team.  But, you can’t discourage parents when they have a talent.  I know that.

Scan 4My eight grandkids, 6 boys and 2 girls, are all in sports in a big way.  Well, the 4-year old isn’t there yet.  The others, ages 12-17, are now down to playing football (1), soccer (3), baseball (3) and basketball (5).  Several are on both school and competitive league games (or whatever they are called).  They play games all over the country all the time, sometimes with up to three games a day.  I will have to say my kids never played more than two a day and I can’t even remember that.  And they have practices, too.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAIt’s a lifestyle choice for parents because it takes a lot of money and a lot of time for the whole family.  There are a lot of trophies, big trophies, and scouts who come to even the games of the youngest to recruit for high school, college and the pros.  There are specialized coaches, and uniforms and equipment bags and iPad apps for keeping stats and scores and paid coaches and parents who follow the games religiously.  It’s very sophisticated.

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One change is the playing fields.  Communities realized there was money to be made by building mega-sports complexes and they built them and the teams came.  I know from my days at the ice rink that you have to keep the facilities filled to keep them going.  You need money to pay them off and maintain them.  There are volunteers to work in the snack bars, someone to clean the bathrooms, someone to manage the scheduling.  Tournaments are a boon to the American economy.  You haven’t traveled until you’re in a hotel/motel with a team of kids sharing the facility.  Family vacations are planned around tournaments or are part of the tournament weekend.  If you’re lucky, you can see a bit of the city where you are playing.  Throw some history or culture into the mix if you have time between trips to the fields.

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Don’t think I’m being critical.  I wouldn’t dare, because I was a part of this for my kids and they want even better for their kids and so it goes.  I love watching the families at all the games.  I love the parents dressed in their fan gear.  I love the younger siblings playing in the dirt.  I like watching the young teammates, who always adopt a look of their own, just as they did when my kids played.  They know all the catch phrases and mimic the pros as they high five and yell popular chants.  There is a camaraderie between the parents and they encourage the kids.  There is some murmuring when a kid isn’t playing up to the high standards, but there is mostly a warm feeling.

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As it’s always been, coaches are critical.  Since my own childhood, I’ve seen kids drop out of a sport they love because of a coach who made the experience miserable.  That still goes on.  A good coach can be so important.  Well, that holds true for everyone who works with kids.  If we can’t inspire them to want to learn or play better or be a better person, what’s going on?  We’ve all had the bad experience and it teaches us in a certain way, but there’s nothing better than a good experience.

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So, what’s my point?  I’m not going to jump on the bandwagon and bash the parents who have devoted so very much to their children.  They could certainly hover less or give fewer trophies or find time to just be together without anything organized, but they’re doing good things, too.  We all make our way as parents.  Even with the millions of parenting tips you get, you still have to find your own way for you and your children.

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A friend once told me that the only thing we really give our children is memories.  That’s all the lifestyle choice we need to make when you get down to it.  It can be organized or not, just make memories, good ones!   As for me, I’m part of the mamarazzi, the proud grandmother taking a million pictures to remember, just as I always have.

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As the children born in the 1940s embrace binge watching television and being able to watch what we want when we want, it’s funny to look back.  How old am I, for gosh sakes!

I remember our first television set, but not exactly how it looked.  Probably something like this back in the late 1940s-1950s.

images-1In my feeble recollection, we had it on a stand and we all gathered around it.  The test pattern was on until late afternoon.

UnknownThe news was important, because you only saw it once or twice a day and the people who read it were serious about it.  Weather reports and sports weren’t added until later.  Entertainment news?  You got that from the movie magazines or the newsreels at the movies.  We laughed at I Love Lucy and Sid Caesar.   So many funny shows.

Television for children developed on Saturday mornings with Buffalo Bob and Howdy Doody and the cast of characters.  We sat around in our pajamas, delighting in this new media.  Black and white, of course.  Or gray, as one of my grandkids called the first B&W show he saw.  One show that was really unique was Winky Dink and You, an interactive show for kids.  We had a Winky Dink kit, which included a plastic sheet that stuck to the television screen and special crayons.  The host drew things on his screen and we completed them to help Winky Dink in his adventures or just to draw.  It was fun and the only show like that I ever heard of.

Television was a big hit.  My grandmothers both loved Saturday night wrestling, yelling at Gorgeous George and the bad guys.  I mostly delighted in watching both of them, because I never saw them like that at any other time.  They laughed at the acts on Ed Sullivan and Red Skelton, but I never saw that same reaction.  Even my granddad didn’t react like they did.  My parents rolled their eyes.  Sports hadn’t hit tv in a big way yet.  Here’s George…scary, hunh?  He transformed my otherwise sweet grandmothers.

UnknownWe got more sets.  Our first portable ones looked like this, complete with rabbit ears that we constantly adjusted and sometimes wrapped with foil for better reception…or any reception.

Unknown-1Did I mention that we had to get up and go to the television and manually change the channels?  Hard to imagine kids today understanding that you had to do that to turn the TV on and off.  Or correct the color or get the lines off the screen.

After I’d been married a few years, we were the proud owners of a cabinet model television.  We were big time adults now!

imagesBut, we still had to get up and walk across the room.  Then came cable television.  Wow!  A new revolution.  Over twenty channels and a cable box to change them.  Still had to walk over and turn it on and off, but we could change channels from wherever the cord on the cable box would reach.  And the kids fought over the cable box, except when Daddy was home.

images-2Anyone reading this probably knows all that has happened since then.  Remote controls, hundreds of stations, and now streaming shows on our personal devices.  It’s a whole new world.  The speed of technology never stops and the obsolescence of what we have today is probably just a couple of years away.  I’m happy to see what it is, but it’s nice to look back to the days when we had time to enjoy each new phase and lock it into our memories before the next one rushed at us.

There was great television then and there is great television today.  There’s just a whole lot more to enjoy now than I have hours in the day or years in my life.  A surplus of choice.

My daughter-in-law and granddaughter have started having a Friday night movie tradition, where they watch movies and sleep in the living room.  It’s not exactly an all-nighter with a four year old, but it’s something they look forward to.  It all takes me back to the late 1970s when we got our first VCR and changed our movie watching forever.

Our first machine was kind of clunky, expensive, and just an inkling of new technology to come.  We could record shows and watch them later or record movies we loved to watch over and over.  It was before they even sold the commercial VHS tapes.  HBO was our best source and the first movies we recorded were two of our favorites, “Star Wars” and “Emmet Otter’s Jugband Christmas.”  I still have those original tapes even though we have the movies on commercial DVD or VHS.

When my son was probably 8 or 9, he and his father started their own Friday night ritual.  We would get a pizza and they would settle in to watch “The Beastmaster.”  If you’ve missed this treasure, it featured Marc Singer in all his naked muscles in a loincloth and his animal friends, an eagle, a black tiger, and two ferrets, battling some bird-man creatures, along with a half naked girl and some other people.  What I remember is the funny scenes with the ferrets and the animals to the rescue and the bird-men raising their wing-arms to attack.  Whatever.  Mostly I remember how much fun my guys had watching.  They knew every line and waited for their favorite parts.  My husband, all 6’4″ of him, would rise up in imitation of the bird-men, which delighted my son.  They never seemed to tire of this craziness.  I have no idea how long this went on, but my son possessed a poster from the movie when he got older.  It was obviously a good memory for him.

beastmaster_poster_01“Top Gun” was also a favorite which we could all share on our own levels as our girls grew into teenagers.  Emmet Otter was a holiday tradition, so much so that our daughters watched it with their prospective husbands.  Fortunately, they all passed the test and at least acknowledged that it was going to be a part of their life from then on.  There was a run of teen classics, “Sixteen Candles” being one that my youngest daughter could recite verbatim.

We didn’t stop going to the movies, but movies at home were definitely changed.  Today there are so many ways to share your favorites and have your own movie nights with family or friends.  It’s a case where the industry had to adapt to the public’s adoption of all the new technologies.

As for me, I love it all.  But, mostly, I remember those Friday nights with my family, watching them enjoy their favorites.  “The Beastmaster” makes me smile every time.

It’s almost Spring officially and I’d put off raking the leaves covering my flower beds as long as I could, so I enlisted the help of my 4 year old granddaughter and went at it.  She learned to use the leaf blower, which was fun for her but she didn’t have much of a plan for blowing other than the laugh out loud joy of making the leaves fly.  She was better at raking until she said she was sweaty…

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While I made a big pile, all the time thinking I probably should have done this last fall even though I hauled bags of leaves out then, she decided to make a nest, feathering it with plumes from an ornamental grass and sticks.  This was quite the project and she absolutely did have a vision for this.

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While I raked, she nested, finally taking a fake nap for my benefit.

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It’s ok that I didn’t get these raked last fall.  We uncovered tulips about to bloom and made room for the other spring plants to reach out to the sun now that the temperatures are getting above freezing.  In the fall, she jumps in the piles.  In the spring, she makes a nest.  I wonder if that’s some primal instinct.

I was thinking about raking leaves when I was her age.  We had a big brick incinerator in our back yard where we burned them.  You can’t burn leaves in the city now, but the smell of those burning leaves stays with me.   I do miss that smell, a smell of my childhood.

We stirred up a lot with our leaf play.  A lot of dust and smells, a lot of imagination, and a lot of memories.

My oldest grandchild turns 17 today.  Already?  It was just the other day that I was 17, wasn’t it?  About 51 years ago to tell the truth.  It doesn’t seem that long. . . except for everything that has happened since then.

Part of me is still 17 as I remember it.  I was well into my senior year in high school on my 17th birthday.  I still had braces on my teeth.  I had fallen in love with the boy who would be the older boy I married a few years later.  I was trying to figure out college and keep my grades up and was active in school activities and I played a lot.  At 17, we were the leaders of the school, the promise of the future.  Until we got to college and had to start over again.

When I was 17,  I worked a little, mainly tutoring, but most of my friends didn’t have jobs.  We studied and played.  We were the lucky ones.  We never knew what really went on in some of our classmates’  homes until many years later.  It was a time when people kept family secrets, when horrible things weren’t mentioned.  Life wasn’t as innocent as we were led to believe.

Seventeen was the end of my sheltered years, when I left home for the first time for college.  It was the end of the innocence for our country when our President was assassinated and we watched it all on television, over and over, although it wasn’t the 24 hr news cycle we have today.

When I was 17, we still used rotary dial phones and had to call the operator to make a long distance call.  We wrote letters to tell our grandmothers what was going on in our lives because long distance calls were special.  No direct dial long distance yet.  Technology was having a long cord on your phone so you could take it into a closet for privacy.  We walked a lot because not everyone had a car.  We went to the library for information because there were no computers.

Seventeen was a year of introspection for me.  I read a lot, a lot of heavy thoughts.  I was in the throes of being a new intellectual.  Mixed with being a fun-loving teenager.  How does that work – being an intellectual teenager?  Really?  And, I’m sure my parents didn’t understand me at all, because what parents ever do?

Mostly, seventeen was fun.  When I watch the movie “American Graffiti,” I see my senior year.  Move the scene from Los Angeles to Tulsa, Oklahoma, and you have my high school years, accurate to the dress, the music, the dances, the kids.   All the fun and angst and watching the world from a new perspective as you move from adolescence into pre-adulthood.  Some friends were getting there faster, getting married, getting jobs, having babies.  It was a time of change.

I’m lucky to have had a life that I can remember with such affection.  Very lucky.  I can see that now, looking back all those years.

My advice for my grandkids as they turn 17 is simple.  Enjoy, take it all in.  Learn from what you see and take it all with you on this exciting journey of life.

When I was 17. . . it was a very good year.

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Nine years ago, I looked at my aging dog and thought I might want to get another one. On a whim, I called an ad in the newspaper and drove to look at a Labradoodle puppy, four months old. When I got there, she was sitting in the lap of the owner. I sat down on the lawn and she came over to me, I talked to her for a few minutes, and then she walked over to my car and stood there. Let’s go. I don’t think I’ve ever been picked by a dog before. I didn’t have much choice, did I?

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Good Golly Miss Molly is 9 years old today, my faithful, adoring friend. She is bigger than they told me she would be, sheds more than I thought, and is too smart for words. I have no idea the depth of her understanding of what is going on with me at any time, but it’s way more than people give her credit for.

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She’s the head of my menagerie, all who came after her. She has a little Westie for a sidekick, Annabel, an older friend, Wanda, who really belongs to my daughter-in-law, and two cats, Mickey and Guy. They all love her and follow her everywhere. Except Guy, who is a little more aloof.

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Today, I wish Molly a Happy 9th Birthday. I’m not sure I deserve such unconditional adoration. Does anybody? That’s why we love our furry families.

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I was amused, and slightly annoyed, listening to someone bash Facebook, calling it a complete waste of time. I understand that not everybody likes everything in the modern world, including television, movies, email, computers, smart phones, etc., but there are those of us of all ages who embrace every bit of it. So, this is my rebuttal on Facebook, in no particular order of importance.

1. The photos. It has replaced the brag book for parents and grandparents. When I first became a grandmother, we all carried books of photos in our purses, which quickly became obsolete as the babies grew up so fast. Now, we all see everything in our friends’ family lives. If you don’t want to see it, don’t look, but the rest of us are delighted to share the greatest of happiness with you. And, use the privacy settings if you don’t want everyone in the world to see them.

2. More photos. I love the travel photos, which give me new places to dream about, and the everyday photos, which take me with you. I love the weather photos, the food and coffee photos, and any photo you share! Again, if this isn’t your thing, don’t look. Scroll down for something else.

3. The videos. I love seeing what videos amused you or moved you, or seeing videos of your baby’s first steps. It saves me going to YouTube to search for them myself and I get an inkling of your sense of humor or your compassion or your life.

4. My own group of friends all in one place, sharing together. I am happy to have friends of all ages, from my grandchildren to elderly friends on Facebook. There are friends from various places I have been, friends from previous jobs, friends from school, which was a long time ago, old friends and new friends, friends of my children, and mere acquaintances. I get to choose which ones are there. And, I like that I can sort them out into groups and see only the posts of my family or a certain group or my close friends without having to search the site each time.

5. Private messages. Facebook messages have replaced emails in many cases and I’m for any way we can reach each other.

6. Businesses or groups I “Like.” I’m cautious with this because I don’t want this to end up like my email which is now 90% business ads. I do like to check on a restaurant or store to see what is going on there and Facebook is an easy way to do that.

7. Links to articles. It seems I find more information than ever on very interesting and timely issues due to the links my friends post. Once I read that one, I find more and keep reading on. Sometimes, these articles are linked to sites I have never heard of, so it’s a shortcut for me. If a friend posts it, I am likely to check it out.

8. Sharing important moments. When my son died, I was so touched by the tributes to him on Facebook and the messages to his family from people all over the country. We still keep his page so that his friends can post photos they run across or send a message when they are thinking about him. Facebook also lets people share when their friends are sick or going through rough periods in their life or having a happy moment, such as a wedding or graduation. We are all a community at those times particularly.

9. Deepening friendships. Through Facebook, I have learned so much more about people I knew at work or through my children or hadn’t seen in awhile or just met, or have known my whole life. Through their sharing, I feel much more involved in their lives and understand them much better. Sometimes, I admit, I don’t like what I see so much, but that helps me understand them better.

10. Sharing the news. When something happens in our world, I’m sure to find political comments, quotes, articles, and observations, whether we are discussing gay rights, elections, religion, entertainment news, commentary on television programs or movies or art or sports. I learn so much about you this way. Sometimes we don’t think alike and the discussions get lively, but we are discussing some serious issues and it’s always great to look at all sides of everything.

I understand that younger Facebook users are turned off because their parents and grandparents have taken it over and they want their own space with their own friends. Boy, do I remember that feeling well and I respect it. They have turned to Instagram, which is fun and makes us all art photographers, but is limited in scope as they don’t have to use words very much. They like Twitter, which has its limits also. And there are other sites. I hope that they come back along the way because, until something new comes along, Facebook seems to be the best community for those of us who value relationships and want to stay in touch. If I could be with all these people in person every day. . .well that’s not possible. This is my thank you to Mark Zuckerberg for his enterprise.

Nobody has to join Facebook, but it’s sure fun.

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I love you, my oldest daughter, because you were the first and you were the only one with blonde hair and blue eyes and you were somewhat patient with me while I figured out how to be a mother. Oh, you did roll your eyes and I knew I was “doing it wrong,” but you hung in there with me until you were old enough to boss your sisters and brother without any help from me. I always knew that you would be happiest when you had your own children and I was right about that. And I love that you are my frilly girl and became a boy mom. I love you because you are loyal to your friends and picked the best husband and are always there for all of us. And I love all your accomplishments. You are a beautiful woman, inside and out!

I love you, my middle daughter, because you were second and never let us forget that you were different from your sisters. I love that you got your Daddy’s dark brown eyes and hair. I love your stubbornness and your unrelenting competitiveness and even your inability to make a shopping decision. I love seeing you be a boy mom and then getting a girl that you really weren’t sure what to do with. I love your pride in your children and your determination when you start something and your talents with a camera and writing. I love that you found the best husband for you. I love that you know yourself so well and can laugh at things that used to bug you. I love that your favorite look is athletic wear. You are a gorgeous woman, inside and out!

I love you, my youngest daughter, because you were the baby girl and followed the other girls around until you got a little brother to boss around yourself. I love that you had that streak in your hair and were “Temper Tantrum Turtle” sometimes, but mostly you were a sweet little girl. I love that you found your true love in high school and keep that love as fresh as it was when you were just a kid. I love your mathematical mind when none of the rest of us have one and your frustration in understanding how we just don’t get algebra. I love that you too are a boy mom and love their sports and love teaching preschoolers and exercise classes and are a runner of races and marathons. I love that you have your own rockin’ look and can hold your own with the big girls now. I love that you are compassionate and caring. You are a stunning woman, inside and out.

I love you, my daughter-in-law, because my son brought you to us and you were the perfect person to spend his last decade with him. I love that you loved him so much and took care of him and “got” his sense of humor. I love that you appreciated the things about him we all loved so much. I love that you are now one of my girls and that you are such an incredible mother of your uniquely wonderful daughter and that you hold your own with my strong daughters and we all love you so. I love that you are accomplishing so very much with your life while raising your daughter. I love that you let us all share in her life. I love your intelligence, your love of crafts, your humor and your determination. I love your devotion to your friends and your family. You are an incredibly radiant woman, inside and out.

I love all four of you for being the role models that your sons need to learn how to treat women and that your daughters need to become the best of our fair sex. I miss that you aren’t little girls any more, but I love that we are friends and can talk and laugh and share with each other. Happy Valentine’s Day, Sweeties!

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We use social media to brag, to inform, to amuse, to keep in touch, and to vent. The same for blogging. Today, I’m going to vent, so stand back. No, you didn’t do anything wrong – I did. One of those slap my forehead things that keep me humble.

I was sitting at my computer, deciding whether to go take a long walk or write a blog, when a friend texted me for help. I pulled on some dirty clothes and was pulling out of the driveway when I thought of something I might take to my daughter-in-law on the way. I opened the garage door, looked around and didn’t find it and didn’t touch anything, got in the car in the driveway & pushed the garage door control. The door stopped part way down. Rather than get out of the car, I sat there making it go up and down until the door was coming down crooked and making terrible sounds. I found one problem – a folding table had slipped in the way – but that didn’t fix it. I was sure that it would correct itself, so sure that I keep making it worse.

After running my errand, I called my son-in-law to come across the street and help me get the door down until the repair people could get here tomorrow, because this is Sunday, of course. Well, dang it, the rollers on the garage door are gone, GONE, on one side, and caught in the runner on the other, so it won’t go down. This could mean a whole new garage door since I tend to go to worst case scenario in these kind of matters. We covered the crap inside my garage with tarps until help arrives.

Driving to sit with a vomiting grandchild, because who doesn’t love to do that, I thought my car air conditioner was broken because it was blowing hot, HOT, air on me. I don’t know how it fixed itself, but it did. That left me to think about my day tomorrow. The carpet cleaners are scheduled, which I don’t do often enough and which means I have to move a lot of stuff in the areas where they will be cleaning. Not the big furniture, just all the other stuff, a lot of stuff.

And my garage is full of stuff, a lot of stuff, too. And how will they get in there to fix the garage door? I can see having to move some of that stuff, which I just moved in an effort to clean it out and then brought in more stuff to help out a friend.

All I can say is that it’s a beautiful day outside and I’m going to let that rule my day rather than thinking about the stupid things I do that make me roll my eyes at myself. I’m sure there are people who think I’m pretty smart, but I’m not one of them at the moment.

But, HEY! I feel better just sharing this with you. Just telling the story makes me laugh. I’ve had worse things happen to me. My family is ok except for the vomiting grandchild and it’s beautiful outside and most things are good. That’s the best we can hope for some days. I think I’ll have some ice cream…

Today I have a guest blogger – my middle daughter, Robin. I just had to share this – she needs her own blog! Y’all enjoy her fun day at the gym…

Today, for scheduling purposes, my trainer threw me into his morning training group, which I will affectionately call the LuLuladies. For 1 hour I had the privilege of working out with 6 of the nicest, most beautiful women at the gym. Because of the obvious differences between us, I decided to make the most of my hour by taking mental notes while we worked out. These are my findings:

LuluLadies: all wore the exact same workout pants that didn’t fall down or wrinkle, or ride up…. I didn’t get the memo.

LuluLadies: have mastered the perfectly adorable loose, messy bun with that doesn’t fall out when they train, and is accessorized by an equally adorable coordinating wide headband.

LuluLadies: don’t have sweaty stringy bangs that hang down in their eyes when they do burpees or pushups. Come to think of it, the Lululadies didn’t sweat…or have bangs.

LuluLadies: bring their own box of tissue and bottle of Anti-bac gel so they can sanitize after each station…including Lunges (Truth)

Lululadies: don’t smell…and they don’t sweat (see above). They are beautiful before, during and after their workouts. It is an art form, and they have truly mastered it.

In contrast, Gapfitgirls: have to pull up their crops after every third burpee; have ponytails that sag after the first round of sit-ups; have sweaty, stringy bangs that require no less than 5 hair pins to hold them back; have tried every wide headband that exists only to find that they all slide off the back of their heads; sweat…a lot… to the point of leaving racerback jog bra sweat prints on the workout benches after presses; and will complete a circuit of kettlebells, medicine balls, TRX straps and bosus…only to walk right past the gallon of anti-bac on the front desk without a second thought.

My comparisons above are simply observations, not judgements. If anything today , I felt a sense of balance to our differences—I am the Yin to their Yang, the Keurig to their Starbucks, the Athleta to their Lululemon, the Labrador to their Shih-Zhu…and it was all good. To all the Lululadies and Gapfitgirls out there—have a fantastic workout today!!

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