• A Small World After All

    09.02.17 | Permalink | | Comments Off on A Small World After All

    Disneyland, again!  🙂 This time, upon our arrival, I said the to the kids that we would dial back Disney after this trip.  That we are ready for something new and fresh.  They looked at ,e as though I told them I was giving away their dog or something.  WHY?!?!  I responded that it might be time for something new, but they said NO.  Disneyland is their home away from home, too, and they’re in no hurry to grow up and away from it.  Thank goodness, because I feel exactly the same.  ❤️ 

  • Bubble Runners AGAIN!

    09.01.17 | Permalink | | Comments Off on Bubble Runners AGAIN!

    This year our Bubble Run gained a new member: Jude!  We hit the streets, and bubbles, at 9:00 and by 9:10 Jude said he loved this run so much that he would do it if it were a half marathon!  I agree.  But bubbles and wet feet for thirteen miles could get interesting… nonetheless, we had a lot of fun running through the bubbles, this time with Buddy in tow.  🙂

  • School Biz

    08.29.17 | Permalink | | Comments Off on School Biz

    Sometimes we have to stand up for things, and this summer was a lot of standing up for students and for teachers.  We had to negotiate a new contract this year, and with that came the request to make class sizes smaller and for better support for our special learners.  Our district had different ideas of how to accomplish the big job of educating our students, so we formed a rally to show our district we mean what we say and will ask, loudly, for what we see as necessary.  I was proud to be married to the man who gave his perspective on what is happening in my district, and to stand by a man who so clearly is interested in protecting everyone in the education system.  He spoke to the school board about inequities he sees and experienced and made a huge difference in the outcome of our very satisfying and supportive new contract!

  • Escape to Idaho

    08.11.17 | Permalink | | Comments Off on Escape to Idaho

    We made our annual trek to Idaho to rub elbows with my family last week. It started out early with Jude leaving with my mom for a few one to one days, then we joined a few days later to spend some time at the lake and squeeze my parents. I have a feeling that I’ll only be able to visit the property for a few more years as my parents can’t keep up with it forever and no one else wants to move out to the sticks. It’s a strange feeling, knowing something that is part of my blood will be let go, but I’m learning that life is just one long sequence of learning to love then learning to let go. In the end, we have to let it all go, anyhow, so I suppose that waving goodbye to the Idaho property will be one more opportunity to practice.  

    I took advantage of our time there, exploring as much as I wanted, dipping into the lake, watching the sunset, sitting quietly on the bluff, reading in the grass, all of the things. I piled my family into the golf cart at one point and gave a historical tour of important points of interest, from my perspective. I showed them where I learned to swim, where my brothers and cousins sealed me into an igloo full of fresh farts, where we tried to catch a snipe, where the old house and garbage pile used to be, where I got the scars on my shin from a water fight. It was a good trip.

    Unlike other years, this one also included our every-third-year Baumert Family reunion. We convened in Salmon Idaho to catch up on hugs and see how tall our kids got. It was strange, this year, as I’m part of the grown up population now. There are younger families than mine and our elders are aging. Looking around, I realized that the crowd has changed from all of my aunts and uncles to very few elders and almost all cousins so far removed now that we could marry one another and no one would blink an eye. That made me think of what family is. Despite the thinning of our shared blood DNA, we are what defines family for me, there. I had a blast visiting, dancing, bidding on auction items, making slime and everything else. I feel lucky that we still meet up and still call one another cousin.

  • Teenager 

    10.14.16 | Permalink | | Comments Off on Teenager 

    Dear Guinevere,

    It happened.  Even though we swore it off for years and forbade you, it still happened.  You managed to grow up a little.  I say a little because, as we’ve discussed, growing up doesn’t have to happen all in one go, or even by the time you’re 18.  Growing up will happen gradually as you get ready for it- Dad and I managed to avoid growing up until our late thirties.  Be a kid for as long as you want.  Enjoy it.  Take your time. Adulthood is always waiting for you and as soon as it has you in its grasp, there you are: a grown up.  Don’t get me wrong, being a bonafide adult comes with some cool grown-up perks, but seriously, wait for it.  

    You’re on the precipice of who you are really becoming, now.  13 means new responsibility: being in junior high means you’re managing so much more with multiple classes, teachers and schedules to manage.  People are relying on you, now, to take care of their pets, their children, their homes and entrusting you with their key; it’s a pretty big deal.  You take it on, fully aware of the weight, setting alarms and reminders to insure your follow through.  You’re a pretty trustworthy kid.  

    It means that decision making is in your hands so much more clearly now.  You know it, too.  You argue and cajole us now in a way you never used to.  You’re always respectful, sometimes passionate, but we’ve noticed a new trend with you.  Where before there was, generally, compliance with the odd balking from time to time, now there’s a fire of rebellion that burns behind your eyes sometimes.  And we know what it is because when you’re passionately blasting Donald Trump , that fire burns just a little brighter before it blasts out of your mouth.  It pleases me to see your fire, though.  That’s a mama’s secret: I want my girl to have enough fire to be able to fight back when she needs to.

    This past year has been one of my favorites of being your mom.  I’ve always loved you, I’ve always liked you, but I didn’t quite understand how that rivulet of love that started when you were just a tiny little flutter in my belly would grow to carve a love that rushes through my heart with alarming speed, headiness and a beautiful sense of satisfaction.  Pride.  I always hoped that you would take advantage of your daddy’s gifts as a musician, take lessons and begin to play, too, but when you actually picked up the guitar this summer and started playing like a musician, I was impressed.  Awed.  Like, she’s really doing it…  and she’s good.  Then you asked me to sign you up for a half marathon.  I’ll confess, I signed you up on your word and blind faith.  At the very least, I thought you’d run part of it, walk part of it, but mostly have a good time and learn what moving 13.1 miles feels like in a morning.  Instead, you started asking me to train with you.  I didn’t have to wake you up and get you going, instead you sought me out for daily runs.  We ran in the heat, we ran in Idaho, we ran farther than you ever ran before.  During those runs we talked and laughed and shared stories and fell in love as a mother and daughter pair.  We did run an half marathon, then another one.  It was grueling, exhausting, exhilarating and we agreed, one of the best things we’ve ever chosen to do together.  You’re destined to be a greater runner than me, and your dad says you’re years ahead of him as a guitarist when he was your age.  Both of us were thrilled when books became not just a love of yours, but a passion.  Your dad and I poured through books like you do and it’s thrilling to watch you consume literature as though your life depends on it.  You’re destined for greatness, strength in spirit, mind and body.  This was the year where you hosted the talent show, had your tonsils removed, you said goodbye to Martha and hello to Freddie Sparkles.  It’s been such a mind blowing year.

    This year you also took to junior high like a duck to water.  We meandered the halls before September, spun your locker combo enough to feel comfortable and suddenly you were off.  I don’t know when you became so self-assured or how you are so certain and confident in yourself.  You decided to not be boy crazy.  Seriously.  You said you want to focus on school and girlfriends right now, not crushes and boys.    Both of your parents are suuuuuper ok with that.  Daddy and I have watched you float out of your school with your beautiful smile and lovely sense of style; your hair, often in your signature messy bun.  And when did you get so beautiful?  Like, this year you surpassed the prettiness of childhood and cuteness of kid-dom and became downright beautiful!  I am stunned by this lovely young woman who crawls in my bed each morning to wrap herself around me like a toddler.  And of course I do.  And I wrap my other arm around the brother and inhale that lovely bouquet that is my children.  I’ve had the privilege of curling up with you for 13 years and I hope for many more mornings like that, through junior high and beyond.

    I can’t wait to heal to run again.  You are my favorite running partner.  Well, really just one of the hands-down best people I know to hang with.  Gilmore Girls.  Friends.   Who knew that when my daughter came into my life I’d also be meeting one of my favorite people in ever?  I love you like crazy cakes, kid.  You’re downstairs right now with a group of really loud, really fun, really good friends.  You’re all dorking out over the Selection Series and Harry Potter and Dr. Who and…  Probably the obvious things too, like boys and school and friends and all that stuff.  You all keep bursting into song and lauuuuughing!  This was the first year where once the party started, we were invited to go upstairs and leave the squad (your term) alone.  This was clearly your party.  I’m fine with that.  We are fine with that, but keep us close.  I’m not quite ready to let you go yet.  

    ❤️Happy Golden Birthday ❤️

    You are so loved Xxoo

    Yo Mama


Gigi Said

  • Topless Tapas 2012-11-03 18:44:52-

    Tami was leaving to go out with her friend and the kids begged to go with her. I said, "you don't want to go with mom, she is going to the Tapas bar and we are going to stay here and play games."

    Gigi stiffened, "That's weird", she said as she blushed. I processed fast and realized the problem. "TAPAS bar. It means 'small plate', not TOPLESS bar!"

Jude Said

  • Nicknames 2013-01-04 21:30:33-

    The checker at the store asked our always conversational little boy what his name was. He replied "Jude" then added "but sometimes they call me pumpkin brown". LOL.

    And they are right. We call him that after the folksong that we sing sometimes.

A long time ago…