A Tribute to motherhood…

The Worrywart's Guide to Weight, Sex, and Marriage

“I hate to tell you this Mom, but . . . ,”
Ralphie said with a concerned expression only a worrywart could appreciate.

We were making our way down the steep hill that leads to the triathlon registration table for Ralphie’s race the following day. A stream of weary athletes were pushing their road bikes up the hill. They had completed the “long course” earlier in the day, and one could tell by their limp posture that this dusty hill was draining every last bit of their energy.
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I had just spent an hour parked in the “car staging area” with my adorable 11 year old niece playing “If you were an animal, what would you be?” and learning way too much information about my brother’s vocabulary when he is directed to drive in circles on a narrow campground road dodging hundreds of bleary-eyed racers as they  make their way…

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