“Dude, Mom I’m not into the whole blogging thing and having what I say be there for, like, forever.”
Right…. That’s SO Taylor. He calls me “Dude, Mom.” because “that’s who you are”
“OK, so I remember riding my bike with you when I was younger and I was behind you. I said “Dude, Mom your butt jiggles when you run and it makes me want to throw up.” So you told me to ride my bike in front of you and that it was my fault and all my brothers and sisters fault that your butt jiggles. And that everyone jiggles even if they’re in good shape, but Dude, my butt doesn’t jiggle. And my calves are awesome. I signed up for cross country this year because I wasn’t running enough. I think I sucked even if my Mom says I was awesome. My first 5K I didn’t think about running. I just did it. Now I try harder and my lungs burn but I never feel anything in my legs. I want to be faster. I’m taking track this Spring. I get nervous before a run.”
Taylor. I am “Dude Mom”. From him it just feels right. Taylor is an incredibly funny, sarcastic, prankster who was the first to introduce me into the world of boys. I was constantly in awe of him from the second I held him in my arms. He pushes himself, dislikes not doing well (or what he thinks is doing well), he’s sometimes pensive and often outgoing. He throws himself into everything and unless you know him really well, you’d never guess that he gets nervous. He wants me to run more so he can run more. He wants to get to the point where he beats me and that moment will come soon. He pushes me to be better in every area. He sometimes exhausts me but man the kid works hard. He helps me around the house but barters for money. He always wants to run errands with me and one on one he talks incessantly. And he makes me laugh. Hard and often.