Brad expects me to do the packing of the clothes for trips. I usually do a great job packing for the kids but sometimes stink a bit when it comes to his stuff (I know, tough, why doesn't he pack HIMSELF) He wanted to have his motorcycle riding (get up) and I grabbed his star trek shirt. That is a bit snug. In my defense, they are the same colors. I laughed so hard I nearly wet myself. He looked like such a nerd riding his bike.

(In order to fully appreciate this post, you MUST put on the background music. Just click the play from youtube. This has potential to be a longagong post so you might as well enjoy some tunes. I did most of my training with these gentleman blasting in my ear. Vampire Weekend, I love you.) Here's the story with the gory details. Why do you tri? On October 18, 2004 I delivered a 16 week old boy in the same room of the American Fork hospital that I lost one six months earlier. (I get pregnant really easily.) The previous week I had seen the doctor and everything was looking good and right on track so yay for me. While the first one was devastating (a whole other post for a whole other day), it was number 2 that changed me. I was so angry at my body for betraying me and not letting me do what I wanted it to do. I figured I was doing all the "right things" with the taking care of myself so therefore, I would be able to carry the babies to term and everyone would live happily ...
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