Toddler Man Plots his Take-Over

I may look cute and innocent,
but I will rule the world someday.

Toddler Man's vocabulary has been expanding rapidly recently. He's starting to string together sentences. He has named his piggy bank (a pig in a football helmet and jersey) "Tim"... apparently even at two he's a Tebow fan. He can string together a rather remedial sentence telling us we'll stay at home or do this or that... He knows football player's names.... but he has an odd hang up with his own family.

He will not, under any circumstance, call his brother by his name. He also will not call the dog anything other than "dog." I have a theory... albeit a rather disturbing one:

You see, Toddler Man, is quite the feisty 2-year-old. I'm fairly certain he's set upon World Denomination (picture Baby Stewy from Family Guy, minus weapons). The two creatures he tries his evilry out upon most often are his brother and the dog. I think he's willing to name anything else on the planet, but the things he wishes to destroy are required to remain nameless so the guilt doesn't wrack his little toddler conscience.

So, if you run into us and he's perfectly willing to explain to you who his favorite Manning is (Yes, he can differentiate between Peyton, Eli, and even Archie) but he refuses to call you anything other than "dis," I'd suggest you take cover. 

Toddler Child the Tattoo Artist

My house is slowly turning blue. And pink. A little bit of purple.  And any other color Toddler Child can get his little hands on. I keep throwing away markers, but alas the child has already mastered some fierce ninja skills and somehow manages to find more.

It's not just markers. Oh no, my ivory couch has been tatted with black ink as well as a lovely blue swirly marker design. The door to my office has some sort of green chalky substance smattered about on top of his trademark blue.

Even the floors - my lovely hardwood - has not been spared. No, here and there you will find a speckle of color. A dab of whatever he could get his hands on, even some of Oldest Child's lipstick made it's non-facial debut.

So, what's a mother to do? Squelch his artistic ability? Scream and put him in more time outs than his little toddler brain can comprehend? Beat him within an inch of his life? eh hem, calmly explain that we do not have an art room but we'll be happy to accommodate his freedom of expression in other ways?

For now, this mother is stocking up on Resolve Upholstery Cleaner and hoping the phase passes soon. But, be warned: if you see this kid - HIDE ANYTHING THAT CAN LEAVE A MARK!

Future Picasso, or Tattoo Artist in the making? You be the judge.

Christmas and New Year's in Review

Things have finally gotten back to normal from the holiday activities (well, almost normal - the decorations are still up, but will come down this weekend). Christmas itself was fairly uneventful. I cooked "Christmas Dinner" on Christmas Eve, and we opened all our gifts afterwards.



The older two taught baby M
how to open his presents.



Christmas morning was filled with the usual excitement of finding out what Santa brought, as well as the hustle and bustle of us loading up the car for our first Christmas Vacation. The hubs grew up skiing, none of the rest of us have ever attempted any sort of winter activity - other than sledding - so of course, an eight day trip to the mountains was just what we needed, right?

After loading the car full of suitcases, skiing/snowboarding/sledding/skating equipment, the dog, and of course ourselves (and yes, the car looked like it belonged to the Clampets once all of the previously mentioned items were in it) we were off to Winter Park, a ski resort town about an hour's drive from home.

<>

View from the car as we crossed
part of Berthoud Pass.

Most days were full of activity; however, I will confess that cooking at a higher altitude than what we're currently at proved to not always be as easy as it is down here at a mere 6,000 ft. Somehow, I managed to bake cookies (not typically an easy feet at higher elevations), but didn't get soup right - I'm blaming it on the water, no way it could be anything I did wrong!



Day one of our quest put both me and the middle child in "ski school". I use this term loosely because he will fiercly tell you he does NOT ski, he boards/rides/whatever the "cool" term for snowboarding is. All I know is after two lessons he's flying down the mountain fearlessly while I'm still plowing my way at a snails pace on the baby slopes. It was a lot of fun though, and I'm looking forward to many memories being made out there.



Proof that - contrary to any reports
 you might hear -  I can stay upright on skis.



I am happy to report that there were only two falls made by yours truly on the mountain. The first was when I went a little faster than what was in my comfort zone, and subsequently got the tips of my skis stuck together. I know, rookie mistake... Fortunately there was a nice soft snow dune that I drove myself into. I'm sure it was a lovely sight. The second was a classic "Beth Accident". For some reason I have an unrational fear of the chairlift. As the hubs and I approached the end of one of our rides, there was literally a man down. Some guy had fallen not far from the lift's exit ramp. Of course I was afraid of running over him, so got stuck on the chair and instead of exiting when I should have, I instead jumped from the chair as it turned the corner to head back to the bottom. Luckily it had snowed a few inches the previous night and I had a soft landing pad.



Middle Child (in green jacket) gets
ready to head downhill in class.

Middle child, of course, is much more athletic and was zooming down the slopes in no time. Laughing at me as he passed by, and upset the last couple days we were in town because it was too cold and windy to take him out.

One of the highlights of our trip was a jaunt over to Grand Lake. An area known for summer activities, but also a haven for snowshoeing and ice fishing. Originally the plan was to do some ice fishing, but we got a late start and just did some sightseeing and shopping instead.

We did not;  however, venture close
to them. Moose are not known for
being nice if they think you are
invading their space...

We did see three large moose in a meadow on our drive. To me that was one of the highlights of the trip!

Unfortunately, our trip was not without drama. We originally planned to come home on the 2nd. But, as temperatures plummetted (windchills ranged from -50 to -31, with real temps being around -4 for the highs) the hubs and I decided we'd all be a little saner if we went back to our own home, where we each had our own rooms to retreat to instead of the two bedroom duplex we were staying in.

We packed up and decided to leave after lunch. While we cooked, the kids entertained themselves. And that's when middle child decided he would carry baby man around the back bedroom. Somehow, they fell and when they did the baby took a face plant into the metal bedframe, splitting his right nostril open.



What? You mean stury strips aren't
normally part of my handsome physique? 



Nine and a half hours, two emergency rooms and quite a few stitches later - we were home. Thankful that nothing more tragic happened, and wondering if maybe we should have left after breakfast instead of trying to cook lunch.

It was a good trip; however, and these are the things memories are made of, right?

Oldest child refused to pose
for pictures - but that's her on the left, just
in front of the bridge skating
.

Baby Man loving the sled!

***Side note, I have no idea why there are two of the same pics of middle child snowboarding, the first one is not showing up in my edit thread, it appears to be deleted but when I publish it's there. So get over seeing the same pic twice. Also, I apparently lack the skills of making a cool photo montage, so deal with the sloppy way they are there. As you can tell, I did not resolve to be less snarky this year - only to post on a more regular basis. Cheers!***

What Thanksgiving Means to Me

Thankgsiving has always been a favorite holiday of mine. As a child we would pack up the car and head over the river and through the woods on a 12 hour trek to northern Illinois to my grandmother's house. Upon arriving we would be plied with all sorts of treats and goodies - not to mention some of the best food ever put upon this Earth.

Every day of the week was dedicated to a special treat we couldn't get in the south - for example: one night would be Italian beef night, Friday or Saturday would typically be homemade Ravioli night (complete with the family story of who held the record for eating the most ravioli's - my mom or my aunt. The number eaten grew like a great fish tale every year, and of course the loser always proclaimed it was because they drank more milk, but actually consumed more calories).

No joke, by the week's end we each probably gained about 20 pounds, would reload the car and head south again. When we arrived back to the house the Christmas season would be in full swing. As we've gotten older and family members took jobs across the country keeping this tradition has been harder and harder to keep. Since moving to Colorado last year, the hubs and I decided we would create our own version of this yearly holiday trek. Only instead of heading to IL we now head back to Arkansas.

To me, Thanksgiving is a holiday for family and we want our children to have similar experiences to those I had and hold dear from when I was a child. We will go back to Colorado and anxiously await a white Christmas, but this week is dedicated to bonding and memory making with family.

Me VS. The Weekend

The weekend went by too fast. But, with it's end I'm on the downhill side of the hubs being in Kentucky for work so I'm not going to complain. The weekend was fairly typical in the life of the Copic house. Soccer game, trip to the zoo, plenty of TV time. Nothing too out of the ordinary.

Saturday was our hectic day. J had his second soccer game of the season. He's on a pretty good team; however, the hubs is his coach. With Andre in KY until the 24th that meant a sub. Since this is a public forum and I don't know that they can't google and find me I will not go into details of my let down of the game. I will just say that we lost. A huge loss. It wasn't due to a lack of skill or because they were outplayed. It was because his team was not organized. And organization is the coach's responsibility. When the coach doesn't coach/mentor the kids, a breakdown happens. And that's exactly what we experienced Saturday. OH well, we have six more games this season, and not everyone wins 100% of the time. So, we'll pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off and go back out there. in Wild Dogs vs. Wolverines, Wild Dogs won. But Wolverines learned how to be good sports even when they don't win. So, I'd say it was a moral victory.

J is a fairly good little goalie. Here he catches the ball before the opposition scores.
Me vs. the Weekend, take 1 - weekend wins.
But I'm claiming moral victory for kids learning how to be good sports when they loose.

We went home, relaxed a bit and decided that we'd take a family outing to the zoo. Sure, that doesn't sound difficult. But have you ever tried doing this alone with a passel of kids? I loaded up the car, stopped at Target for snacks and the four of us took off to the Denver Zoo.

It was a nice outing. The weather was gorgeous and most of the animals we wanted to see were out. J always bugs us for a train ride and we never want to wait in the line, but this time it wasn't too bad so me and the three kids piled on and rode around for a bit. The zoo has had quite a few babies born this year, and we saw the baby orangutan and mountain goats up close. The only complaint to be heard was from J because I don't do the reptile house, so he had to skip it. Oh well, his dad can take him in another time. We did catch the sea lion show and that was entertaining. Baby Man really could care less; however, and took a nap during the second half of our excursion.

Mama Orangutan with baby on her shoulder. I couldn't catch her up close.

J & H outside of the sea lion exhibit. Baby Man was sleeping by this point so he's not pictured.
Me vs. the Weekend, take 2 - I win.

That evening after the Baby went to sleep I escaped with the neighbors to grab a movie down the street. They wanted to see Devil. I don't do scary movies. I especially do not do scary movies when I'm alone. They joked that I would go home and put all three kids in bed with me. They didn't know that was probably true, and I'd sleep with every light in the house on. Instead of doing this we saw The American. Look for a movie review later. Don't be shocked when the review is not good. The plus side of The American is George Clooney is lickable. That's about it.

A brooding well toned George. Best thing about the movie.
Me vs. Weekend, take 3 - me because I didn't get up and leave, and I managed to stay awake.

Sunday was what I like to call a lazy day. We lounged around the house and watched movies. Letters to Juliet is adorable. And the premier of Broadway Empire came on last night. My kids managed to play nice and not kill each other. All and all it was a good day.

So, All told the final score was Beth - 2 (plus a moral victory), Weekend - 1. I'm saying that's a resounding defeat to the weekend!

It's Never too Late to Learn

The hubs and I have been married 9 years. In this time I have learned very little of his native language. I mean, in my personal opinion any language which actually considers the pairing of "Lj" as a single letter is not really comprehensible.

I have randomly made fun of his language saying it didn't have nearly enough vowels in it (citing especially the word for finger "prst" see? No vowels, that can't be a word, right?). But, it's somewhat hard for me to argue that my kids need to learn the language of their grandparents and me not learn it.

Of course, this was relatively impossible when we were in Arkansas. There were no other Croatians in Arkansas - at least none that we knew of. However, there is a large population of them here. Once a month we attend a Croatian language mass. In attending we've met quite a few friends, and I've been happy to realize that I am not alone in being the "spouse who only speaks English". So, a group of us have decided to get together and attempt to learn.

"Class" started last night. "Students" range in age from teenagers to an elderly couple (i.e. in their 80's). We started with the alphabet... yep all 30 letters of it and a few simple words. We'll see how this goes...

I took 4 years of Spanish in school, it started out as my minor in college. Today I know enough to count, say colors and get myself to the police station and/or hospital in an emergency. Hopefully, I'll fare a bit better in the memory skills with Croatian... In the meantime, I guess I'd better go study because moj Hrvatski je los (my Croatian is bad). 

Travel Horror Stories

Admit it, you have one... we all do. A friend of mine recently travelled to Europe. Upon her way back she was screened at London's Heathrow Airport. Apparently, answering the questions honestly can get you in a bit of a security snafu. You see, they had packed their bags, but then checked them into their cruiseline's cargo hold. So when asked if her bags had been out of her possession at all, she said yes. Enter the land of security shut down and intense questioning. Add to this that she was traveling with 3 kids under the age of 12 and you can only imagine the chaos that ensued.

Whilst laughing at her Facebook post today, I couldn't help but think back on a few of my travel oddities. You know, that little black cloud that follows me around - it doesn't take vacation, even when I do. Sure none of mine are nearly as entertaining as hers, but I thought I'd share:

*Take for example my honeymoon. Following a lovely wedding the hubs and I were off to beautiful, sunny Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. Little did we know we were arriving the first day of monsoon season.  Yes, you read that correctly. Gazing out of the windows of our plane I knew we were off to a lush tropical paradise, complete with sparkly water and sandy beaches. We arrived and it wasn't exactly what I had pictured, but I was still excited to explore around. Down to the dining room we go... we are told we cannot sit on the patio - because those big, grey clouds in the distance were headed our way. Fantastic seafood dinner, everything going great. Then the storm hit. Just as we were leaving. We waded through water waist deep to get to our stairwell. A cactus - yes, an actual cactus - floated by along the way. In the morning when we headed to the beach, we discovered a wasteland. You see, the monsoons wash out all the dried riverbeds right onto the beach. Just a quick dip in the ocean and you were covered with unimaginable filth. Note to self: do not go to the beach in P.V. during the first two weeks of July. We spent about 10 days there... the beaches were finally clean on day 9. Lovely.

*Example two comes a few years later. I am terrified of flying. It usually takes some sort of anxiety meds and/or a couple glasses of wine for me to fly. I had neither when we went to Disney World in 2004. I'd flown to Disney a couple times without incident. But for some reason, this particular trip I didn't fare too well. On the way home, looking out at the Gulf of Mexico between Orlando and New Orleans I freaked. I had a massive panic attack and was convinced I was traveling in the metal death trap. We were not scheduled to get off the plane when we stopped in the Big Easy... but I did. Our short flight home turned into a long drive in an overpriced rental. The hubs will never let me live that one down.

*Then there was the trip to Croatia in 2006. It was relatively uneventful. We flew on frequent flier miles, so our options on flights were limited to whatever they had for points. We had a 10 hour layover at JFK. The kids handled this ok. They surprisingly slept in the airport. But, when we went to check through security we had a lovely surprise. Apparently, middle child was flagged to be randomly searched. Umm... he was 3.5. What, you think the Mickey Mouse backpack he had filled with stuffed animals, books and dinosaurs was suspicious? We were actually accused for a few minutes of changing the information and trying to pass him off as the hubs. Umm... we gave you the birth dates upon booking. We have all the proper documentation. The security guard was baffled. She'd never heard of them having to search a toddler before. But, policy is policy. So before we knew it I was ushered over to a room to the side and my little boy was being asked to hold his arms and legs out while they patted him down. Another guard took every item out of his backpack one at a time, inspected the items, and then returned them. During the process a very solemn J looks at the guard and very seriously says, "I not dangerous. I Jonathan." A quote we will forever tease him with.

So those were the three stories that I could quickly remember. There are plenty of other ridiculous tales I could report, but in the interest of time and space I won't bore you. I would; however, love to hear your most interesting travel story!

Proud to be an American

For those of you who don't know, the hubs came here as a sophomore in high school for a one year stay as a foreign exchange student. His host family was kind enough to agree to sponsor him to stay longer. This turned into finishing his high school studies here, staying on for college, meeting the most wonderful, kind, loving woman in the world me and sticking around for good.

If you don't know the process, it can be long and tedious. I won't bore you with the details - just know that it's something that he started before we met. He got his green card just prior to our engagement in September of 2000 and went through the naturalization process from there. Fully becoming a citizen yesterday.

Those of us who were born here take many things for granted. We freely talk about how messed up our government is and what it should do differently. We get into heated debates with others who don't share our political viewpoints, without fear of punishment. Our military is not a mandatory organization in which armed men show up at the doors to take our sons, fathers, brothers, etc. into service. We can choose to worship (or not) whatever deity in whatever form we want and have no repercussions. And, most importantly every citizen over the age of 18 has the right to vote, whether they choose to or not, for whichever individual they feel is best for the job.

Yesterday, the hubs stood with a group of people from 23 countries - from all continents (except Antarctica, we're not letting the penguins immigrate) - and swore allegiance to the U.S.A. I posted on my facebook that he'd finally accomplished this. My friend, Audreya, joked that she was sending him a virtual serenade consisting of "The Star Spangled Banner," "Proud to be an American" and "God Bless America". This was fitting because looking over the program, these songs were played to the new citizens, as well as a welcome video from the President.

To me, and my odd patriotic ways, the timing couldn't have been better. We go into this weekend celebrating our country. It stands as a beacon to the rest of the world for freedom and democracy. For free enterprise and individuality. Hundreds of thousands have flocked to our shores because they believed in the greatness of this nation and the opportunity it had to offer. Another vast group of people - many of whom are/were immigrants, or their descendants - risked (and in many cases gave) their lives to preserve these freedoms that so many of us take for granted. Let us not forget that. Let us not forget them, or the blood, sweat and tears so many of them poored into making this country what it is.

This Independence Day - remember the meaning behind even the very name of the holiday... freedom from tyranny. The freedom that we take for granted here, regardless of what some pundints in the media will make you believe, is still sought after in many places around the world - and was gained by a roomful of people from 23 nations yesterday.

<--Me & The Hubs with the Liberty Bell in Philadelphia, PA. January, 2009.

Phase 2: Bathrooms

Phase 2 of our home renovation has begun. Do you have any idea how difficult it is for a family of 4 (not counting the baby because he isn't mobile yet) to use one bathroom? It's no walk in the park, that's for sure!

This weekend started off with a quick trip to Lowe's & Home Depot. The floor we are putting in the master bath had to be ordered, so that's taken care of and will arrive sometime in the next two weeks. But the floors we're using for the other two baths were in stock. Purchased that, and all the things that we thought we'd need (of course not everything, as I've made probably 3-4 trips back since) and headed home to get started.

I wish I would have taken before shots so you'd know just how tacky the bathrooms were. Awful white carpet is throughout my house. Err, let me rephrase that... Awful carpet that should be white is throughout my house, including the bathrooms. We bought this house as a short sale. The 300 people who lived together as renters prior to their landlord going broke reaked havoc on the floors. The flooring everywhere is getting refurbished, but in baby steps. This phase is just the bathrooms.

We are currently in the "the tile has been laid, but not grouted" stage. Hopefully the grout will go in this afternoon and the bathroom accessories can go back in very soon. Right now it's somewhat like going to the DMV - take a number, you'll get service when your number is up.

I know, the settlers two hundred years ago didn't have bathrooms, and had to share an outhouse. But, I'm not a settler two hundred years ago. I do not share bathrooms well. Especially not with angsty teenagers who wake up before I do and are loud and obnoxious when getting ready for school.

Tune in for pictures, at some point everything will be back together and I'll share "after" pics, even though you can't have "before" pics.

Evil Beth Strikes Again

I am writing this late, and whilst very angry, so I am sure there will be typos. I apologize in advance. :)

My daughter has been asking harassing me for a while now to allow her to get a second hole pierced in her earlobes. She is 14, almost 15, I don't see much harm in it. Most people in her age group (and mine, too for that matter) have two holes in their ears. So, tonight after we finished Easter shopping she starts in on me. We are still on mall  property, so I tell her if the store is still open we will get it done. We walk in 15 minutes before they close and they say no problem they will do it.

It's easy enough. She picks out what she wants put in (thankfully just a simple CZ stud on a white gold post, not some of the ridiculous things they have to choose from). The girl marks her ears and the piercing begins.

Now, let me say this: they go through a whole big schitck about keeping them clean. How they are just so particular about everything being sterile. They have to sterilize their hands in front of me, lay everything out, put gloves on, sterilize all the tools, take out clean studs, etc. All this is shown to us... I have a gazillion places to sign saying everything is sterile, yada yada yada.

The first hole goes great. Then it's time for the second. I admit, I'm squeemish. Anyone who knows me well, knows I get sick easily when it comes to anything related to bodily functions that are not my own. So the thought of watching a stud being punched through my 14 year-old's earlobe was not something I wanted to see. I watched the first one go smoothly, then I started wandering down the aisle looking at some of the jewelry they had.

That's when I hear it... CLICK of the gun... groan of the assistant manager (who was doing the "procedure")... "That's not good," she says. WHAT?! I come back up the aisle very quickly (I'm only about 3 feet away, so I can still see what's going on - I'm just trying not to front and center watching).

Dear Daughter is doing fine, the stud is in her ear, but the back of the stud lays on the floor by the assistant manager's feet. I pick it up. I put it on the counter. I wait to see her next move.

This is where I should probably say that just a couple minutes prior she had marked dear daughter's ears to show me where the studs would be inserted. I touch her lobes to see if they look even. Now, my hands are clean. I'd just washed them. However, I was scolded because nothing "unsanitary" can touch the lobe prior to the piercing. Her ears had to be "re-sanitized" and re-marked.

Back to the earring back picked up from the floor. The girl doing the piercing calls the manager over... "that fell on the floor, what do I do?" Manager: "clean it and put it on her ear."

WHAT????!!!! Enter a person I like to refer to as "Evil Beth." Evil Beth hasn't made an appearance in a while. She's been somewhat tamed over the years. However, she still can pack a pretty nasty growl when necessary. And the thought of that dirty earring back going on my daughter's ear was enough to awaken Evil Beth from hibernation.

I am standing there staring at store manager. In something we'll call a restrained growl a very authoritative voice (it should be noted that I am probably at least a couple years older than the store manager, and the assistant manager can't be more than 20/21 herself) I tell her that in no way is that thing going on my daughter's ear.

"Well, there's nothing we can do. She has to use it, otherwise we have to categorize it as damaged merchandise, then damage another set to get a new one out," the manager informs me. This sets Evil Beth into a rage. I see red. The manager is now a big, glowing bullseye waiting for my daggers to pummel her in the heart.

Again, very restrained, I tell her in no uncertain terms is that thing going on my daughter's ear. I tell her that I will take that waiver I just signed and rip it to pieces, I will take my one ear-pierced daughter out of the store and somewhere else before I let that thing touch her. I ask why there's such an emphasis on sterilization when they are going to put something that just came up from the ground on her head. I ask if they even know what's been on the floor? I mean people are walking out in the street, stepping on cigarette butts, walking in public bathrooms/urinals, etc. and then walking into their store. I myself have on a pair of tennis shoes that have walked countless miles around the neighborhood not just in nice weather but in awful, grimy blackened snow. Sure they look brand new, but Lord knows what's touched the soles of these shoes, I was in a public restroom less than 20 minutes prior (and a department store dressing room with a dried booger on the wall *gag* so no telling what was on the floor, but that's another story all together) and I walked across that very same spot where the earring back lay. No way in hell is that thing going on her ear. Take my business or leave it. I do not care. But if you want me to pay, you'd better put a brand new stud and brand new back into that gun and repierce her ear.

You know what they did? They did exactly what I told them. They apologized profusely, took out another (sterile) stud and repierced the ear (come to find out it didn't go all the way through the ear the first time because the gun jammed, if the idiots girls had been paying attention instead of harassing me, they'd have realized this and the argument would not have occurred).

So, in the end, Evil Beth went back into hibernation. The store gave in and did what she told them to do. My daughter has vowed to tell her friends to go somewhere else, or take a stern bodyguard with them, when they go get their ears pierced. I asked her if I embarassed her. And, for once she said, "No. I'm glad you were there. I probably would't have spoken up and my ear probably would end up rotting off."

I'm gonna have to teach that girl to stick up for herself. She's a sassy thing to me, gotta teach her to give it to people who deserve it.

My Take on The Blind Side

What an amazing story! I purposely did not see this in the theatre because I knew it would make me cry. It takes a lot to draw a tear to my eye, but this had me crying within minutes of the opening credits, and off and on until the very end of the closing credits.

Leigh Anne Tuohy is an amazing woman, and Sandra Bullock's depiction of her is awesome. I'm also glad I watched this alone, so I know what to expect when watching it with the hubs later on. He tends to make fun of me when I cry at movies. Of course his "they aren't real people" line wouldn't apply to this, because they are.

My husband is a football fan, I'm sure he knows who Michael Oher is. Before the previews of this story, I did not. Neither of us knew Oher's background. I saw in an "HBO Behind the Scenes Look" of the movie that while some liberties were taken (as with all movies) this is very true to life. The real Leigh Anne Tuohy was on set during much of the filming to make sure of it. She's a spunky woman, she wouldn't let those hollywood types get her story too far off base. It was touching as well to see her in the audience at the Oscars to see Sandra win her award.

It is amazing how they caught on film the things we go through for those we love. And her determination to help this boy - there just aren't words! I have a new hero.

My two favorite scene had to be she confronted a gang-banger about messing with Michael, "You mess with my son, you mess with me" and she goes on to tell him how she's a card toting member of the NRA, and always "packin". He wants to know what she's carrying, if it's a "Saturday night special" and she says not only that, but it works just fine all the other days, too. He's left speechless. But it's such a true moment. What wouldn't we do for the ones we love? We'd risk it all, even if it meant putting ourselves in harms way.

Anyway, the point to today's blog isn't really a movie review, but rather a reflection on this story. This woman didn't ask questions, she knew what had to be done to help this young man. She jumped in feet first and did it. I don't know what he's like in real life, but I know he ended up getting an education and making something of himself. Michael went from cleaning up the bleachers after sporting events so he could get the discarded bags of popcorn and have something to eat to a multi-million dollar contract in the NFL. Leigh Anne realized a young man needed help, and that nobody else was going to give it to him. Her family didn't think it odd that they take him on as a big brother or older son.

We could all be so lucky to know such a bond.