You know, nothing should surprise me anymore.
That surprises me.
Last year Brian had to be pulled from this weightlifting competition because we were in Europe and I didn't really get what the whole thing was about.
Basically, I was relieved we were out of town.
As part of football (which I also poo poo'd, sigh) the boys have morning lift every day before school at 6:00am. Brian had a head start thanks to an older brother who was a lifter and who was, thankfully, obsessed with proper form and technique and sneaking out and oh dear, you should hear the high school stories that boy has...or maybe not.
That boy has grown up and it's hard to imagine he was ever that hard...so hang in there if you have a hard to raise kiddo.
Anyway, Brian loves lifting.
There was a huge competition with other schools and he got entered in (up a weight class even) and we went to gasp and ooh and ahh and cover our eyes at the scary parts.
I mean, we went to cheer him on.
My baby. THIS is MY baby?
He won 2nd place, that boy of mine.
I won 2nd place in the mothering category...I was in front of the mother who climbed through the security barrier to take pictures but behind the mother who stoically kept a straight face while I (only twice, mind you) yelled 'HELP HIM!' when a lifter seemed to be struggling.
Way (weight?) to go, Brian.
PS. Watch out, big brothers. Little brother is coming for you.