So, this past weekend, Clark had his Conference Track Meet. Typically track meets are after-school, but the conference meets, and the state meets...they start in the morning and last.all.day.
Jim wasn't going to be able to go, because he was up to his ears in meetings and very long days, due to the tornado that hit our county last Sunday. Holly said she would go with me and Joshua, since she didn't have class that day.
At this point I would like to say that Joshua? Not a fan of the hand-stamp. EVER. From the time he was little until (apparently) even now that he's 28 years old. Because the track meet lasts all day, and there are times between the pre-lims and the finals that you might want to leave the track, they stamp your hand when you pay...so that you aren't charged when you come back in. So, I paid for the three of us and I held out my hand to be stamped, and Holly held out her hand to be stamped...and Joshua did NOT hold his hand out to be stamped and I had to grab his hand and literally PULL HIM to get his hand close enough for the lady to even reach him.
I was so frustrated with him, because 28. Hello?
And then as we walked off...the little stinker took his right hand and proceeded to try and wipe off the stamp on his left hand. I went all JIM on him and told him that if I had to pay another $5 to come back in because he had wiped that off...it would NOT GO WELL FOR HIM.
That scene sort of set the tone for the next hour because he was not happy.
Well, JOIN THE CLUB, Joshua.
He doesn't like when things are "sprung" on him and I would've told him beforehand if I'd thought about it. But I didn't, but can we not just please be flexible? No, no we cannot. Joshua is not a fan of the flexible.
The weather could not have been more perfect. Sunny...not too hot... light breeze. God showing us the beauty of His creation in the after the ugliness of the storms just a few days earlier.
I never know what to wear this time of year. If I wear shorts, I'll freeze until 3 o'clock. If I wear jeans, I'll burn up until 5 or 6 o'clock. (SIGH) I know none of this matters at all to anyone. I ended up wearing jean capri's and a polo-type shirt, and I brought a sweater...and I was really comfortable all day.
Joshua was born an old soul. From the time he was born, he's always been...old. He's pretty set in his ways, which I think is a "thing" with people who have Down Syndrome. He likes to have a schedule and know everything in advance. He loves routine and does things the same way pretty much every time. He brought his small nylon back-pack to the meet. I call it his "bag of tricks," because he's got everything in there: jacket, cap, shades, sunscreen, bug spray, mouth spray, chap-stick.
He is adamant about sunscreen. He's only been slightly sunburned maybe 1 time, but he's so afraid of it that he is almost a maniac about putting on sunscreen. Which, I'm glad that he's diligent, but good grief. We sat down and he put on his cap. He put on his shades, which are cheap, plastic sunglasses that he wears OVER HIS REGULAR GLASSES. Adorbs, right? Uhhh, NO. He gets out his sunscreen and puts microscopic dots of it on his finger and runs it carefully over the top of his ears. He puts a little more and rubs it along the back of his neck. He rubs some on his arms and face. Then he pulls up his hoodie, and puts his cap back on.
Yes, on a warm, sunny day, he is wearing a hoodie. At one point, he is under an umbrella like Mary Poppins. Seriously? Nothing like blending in with the surroundings.
Everytime I looked at him, I just cracked up. He is so funny! And he loves his brother and was so happy to be there to cheer for him. He said it was his "high light hash tag" of his day. That's how he wrote it on Facebook.
There was this lady sitting in front of me and I'm not gonna lie. I was totes jel (see what I did there?) (I'm so now) of her. She wore a t-shirt and brought a pull-over for when it got cool. She wore black athletic-type shorts over her very tan legs. She looked to be a woman-of-a-certain-age...but she looked very good. Healthy and fit. Just like me. Except not.
She looked like the type of woman who never sweats.
I stared at her for several hours, since we were at the track meet for several hours and she sat in front of me. She was the me I always wanted to be.
She periodically passed out water, Gatorade and little baggies of fruit, veggies and nuts to her daughter...FROM HER VERY OWN LITTLE COOLER THAT SHE BROUGHT INTO THE STADIUM.
I, on the other hand, had to do the walk of shame past her while I carried a cheeseburger, a hot dog weenie, an order of pretzel bites WITH CHEESE, 1 Diet Coke, 1 Sprite and a bottle of water to my family.
A proud Mom moment for sure.
And then I watched as she got out a little plastic container full of fruit, and proceeded to delicately pick up one piece of fruit at a time with her beautifully manicured nails.
I scratched around in the bottom of my purse and found a package of Ritz Peanut Butter Crackers and 3 Grandma's brand cookies. I gave one cookie to Holly and one to Joshua...and then I only ate half of my cookie. I might not have a bag of fruit, but I can certainly show restraint.
And then I ate the other half of my cookie.
SIGH
Holly and I also had a conversation about my sister, Robin, getting a tattoo.
NOTTHATTHERESANYTHINGWRONGWITHTHAT.
We just aren't really tattoo people, but when Robin turned 50, she competed in an Ironman Triathlon. Not exactly what I would consider a fun thing to do on any birthday, but she worked and trained SO HARD for this event. And she finished! So she got an Ironman tattoo on her ankle. Joshua was not impressed and said, "well, I don't know about THAT." So I said, "well, Aunt Robin worked so hard, and probably if I had done something big like an Ironman competition, who knows? I might want a tattoo, too."
I mean, who knows? Finishing an Ironman is a pretty big deal. Plus, she's 50. I think it's okay.
ANYway, Joshua said, "welllllllllllllllllllllllll...that's not really YOU, the Ironman. Aunt Robin? YES. She was made for it. She was born for it."
His eyes are reading my face, and, concerned that he may have just hurt my feelings, he reaches over, pats my hand and says, "but don't worry, you can run a 2k JUST FINE."
A 2 k.
"...in a race all run...run to win." 1 Corinthians 9:24
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