This morning, I started thinking about what I hoped my eulogy would say. I thought that today would my last day on Earth.

Today, I tried Crossfit.

I especially thought I was a goner when Hank went to a class before mine, and when we were exchanging the kids he looked at me in all seriousness and said…

“You’re screwed.”

Well, there was nothing left to do but pray. And try to keep from losing my breakfast.

We started with a pre-warmup of jogging around, skipping, and running sideways (I’m sure that’s the techie term). Then we had a warmup of some yoga-like stuff, which I was all over. And then I think the “dynamic” warmup came next, which was climbing a rope a few times (arms only), lunging, kicking, and some hop squats. After all of that, we finally did the “workout” titled “Death by pullups and stick jumps.” I really was screwed.

I am now considered a survivor. I should have been awarded a t-shirt or something. Instead, we survivors took pictures.

First up, my awesome friend Stephanie. She ROCKED the pullups with her volleyball-playing arms. Plus, I’m pretty sure that I could bounce a quarter off her butt.

I totally had to pose with her. And please pardon the gum in my mouth. It was minty fresh, you know, to help me keep my breakfast where I put it. In my belly.

Here are Jen and Lara. Not only can they both sing like a nightingale, they kicked out some wicked stick jumps.

And Julie. Not that she’s competitive or anything, but she outlasted us all. In fact, she mercifully traded stick jump stations with me when I couldn’t jump so high any longer. She killed it. What a machine.

Oh, and speaking of machines…this is my good friend Ali, who instigated the whole trip, ’cause this is her gym house. I bow down to her guns.

Needless to say, I took a huge long and well deserved nap with Holden this afternoon.

And then…we partied like kindergartners. Tonight was our big celebration for Holden and his good friend, Ben, for completing preschool and becoming big K’s. We did it up big at a new spot in a neighboring city called, Tutti’s. I think that the name of that place is about as fun as it can get. Tutti’s. Yep, like “tooties.” Not much better in a kindergartner’s vocabulary than getting to say “Tutti’s” over and over again.

This place was the brainchild of a local small business owner who realized that moms and dads want to eat out in a yummy place while having their children be happy as well. The main floor is a regular restaurant, while the bottom floor looks the same but has a special play area for the kids, painted by kids, and made for kids. Three of the four boys were in heaven, but someone kept escaping up the stairs to leave.

The first we noticed he was gone was when the HOSTESS brought him back downstairs to us. Yes, that’s right folks. We didn’t even realize that he was missing. Makes you want to call us to watch your kids, now doesn’t it? Jeez Louise. What awful parents we are.

We, of course, had to go make sure the other ones were in the right spot, which they were. They’re so weird.

More weirdness.

And even more still.

And then there was Logan. He’s just plain groovy. A 70’s angel.

At the end of a feast of macaroni and cheese, the boys made their very own decorations on star sugar cookies. This might have been the highlight of the evening; especially when Ben’s mom caught him with the frosting squirter in his mouth.

After cookies, we set them free outside. Not the cookies. The children.

I’m pretty sure we had a happy Holden.