Random New Year's Eve Thoughts

• I just celebrated changing the last poopy diaper of 2012 (hopefully).  Is that sad that this is my biggest accomplishment tonight?
• I had cookies for dinner
• If you think that's bad, I had crescent rolls with chocolate chips for lunch.  For the 2nd time this week. We call them pain au chocolate (insert French accent here).  Don't judge me.  It's New Year's Eve.  Not sure why that is a valid excuse.
• Found this quote in a book tonight.  Paraphrasing....Our (non-Christian) friends are sending us a message.  'Don't tell me...show me.'  They don't want to see another television evangelist, they don't want o read another book or hear another CD about Christianity, and they don't want to hear your amazing story of conversion.  They want the real thing. They want to witness people living an authentic life supported by the authority of his/her actions.  Someone striving humbly but heroically to live by what is good, true, and noble in the midst of- and in spite of- the modern climate.  I'm gonna try to be the real thing this year!
• Every time I turn on the guide on the TV and see the show Muffin Top I think "Yes, please" but then realize it's some sort of weight loss infomercial and I keep on scrolling.
• I find Psy very annoying but somehow adding MC Hammer to his act got my attention. It's a generational thing I guess. 
• Ok NOW I have changed the last poopy diaper of 2012.  Touche, William, touche!   
• I like my job.  I felt good going back today.  I like being around such awesome people with the goal of helping families be safe.  Sounds corny, but I really do like it.  Call me crazy.  I feel like it's my calling.  I look forward to hiring new staff even when I am sad to see people leave.  It's like a new challenge to see if we can get a fresh employee to take on the overwhelming task at hand.  I should take a maternity leave every few years just to rejuvenate!
• I wish people thought my double chin is as cute as Will's.
• I may have done the MC Hammer shuffle across my living room floor on the way to the bathroom.  And I probably looked really good doing it. 
• I miss my boys tonight.  They would have applauded my dance moves.  William just isn't there yet.  He's not my target audience. 
• Well, now it's 10:49 pm so I might as well stay up and see the ball drop on the East Coast.  It's the least I can do (for who????)
• I'm TOO LEGIT TO QUIT. 

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!  I HOPE YOUR 2013 IS FILLED WITH MUCH LAUGHTER AND LOVE! 

Home vs. Work

To be a stay at home or not to be?  That is the age old question and one that I have heard about 500 times since Will was born.  "Are you going back to work?"  It seems that the answer is yes.  I had never planned to stay at home with my children.  I find that I am a better parent and better person in general when I can boss people around at work all day.  But the question does bear some assessment as I have enjoyed my time at home more this go around than with my first two kiddos.  I think I'm just generally more relaxed and in the groove this time.  Taking everything as it comes instead of trying to control it.  Third times the charm, I guess.

Whenever I am trying to make decisions, I pull out the ol' pro vs. con list.  So here we go.....

Home: Time for naps, although if I was home permanently with all 3 boys it would never happen.  Today I got two children to sleep at the same time and the 3rd one quietly playing a video game.  I slept for a total of 17 minutes.
Work:  Naps are reportedly frowned upon but I do have a lock on my office door.....note to self....schedule "conference call" each afternoon and put up the ol' "do not disturb" sign
Point goes to:  WORK

Home: More time to exercise and actually get back in shape.  I mean, I have exercised only one day so far but surely I would do more if I was here full time.  I'm just sure of it.  Really. It could happen.
Work: Working full time with 3 children gives me a nice excuse to avoid working out
Point goes to: HOME, only because I hang on to the off chance that I might actually get in shape

Home: Way more time to cook and plan meals.  Unfortunately it has resulted in a nice little muffin top.
Work:  Too busy to stop for lunch or dinner = pre-baby weight
Point goes to: WORK

Home:  Time (and I use the word "time" loosely because I haven't showered in about 36 hours) to be room mom for Justin's Kindergarten Winter Party which entails planning, gathering donations, organizing games, and delegating tasks to the other parents 
Work: Time to be room mom for Justin's Kindergarten Winter Party
Point goes to:  HOME.  Loved every minute of it 

Home: I have found my inner crafty self by way of my obsession with Pinterest 
Work:  Crafts cost $$$$ and really I'm not that good at it anyway. 
Point goes to: WORK

Home:  sweats, yoga pants, no make up, t-shirts.  Need I say more?
Work: pants with buttons (gasp), belts, heels, jewelry
Point goes to: HOME, hands down

Home: Daytime TV
Work: avoiding daytime TV
Point goes to:  WORK  I can only watch so many reruns of Wings and Sex and the City

Home:  Time to eat lunch with Justin at school.....at the Cafeteria
Work:  "forgetting" my lunch so I get to eat Roxanne's
Point goes to:  WORK

Home: Recliner
Work: state issued chair that's approximately 35 years old
Point goes to:  HOME

Home: Managing the freak outs of a 4, 5, and 33 year old (I can't really count Will's crying as freak outs.....yet)
Work: Managing the freak outs of grown women
Point goes to: Amazingly I'm going with WORK on this one.  At least I am not responsible for their general well-being and contributions to society based on my responses to their freak outs

Home:  Getting shit on (literally)
Work: Getting shit on (figuratively)
Point goes to: HOME because in theory that shit will come to an end one of these days

Home: Playing referee to a 4 and 5 year old (an occasionally the 33 year old WITH the 4 and 5 year old)
Work: Playing referee for adults (and I use that word loosely) with mental illness, substance abuse, and general patters of abusive and destructive behaviors
Point goes to:  HOME because I feel like I can make more of a difference in the way they manage themselves in tough times (fingers crossed), but oddly enough I do enjoy managing the conflicts of our clients. Something different every day.  I'm kinda sick in that way.

Home: No more daycare costs, but education responsibilities are on me.  Pretty sure they would only learn how to bake cookies, how Carrie cheated on Aidan with Mr. Big, and how to sing the Nanny's theme song....oh wait, they already know that one. 
Work: Paying a big ol' hunk of money each week for the safety, happiness, and well-being of my children
Point goes to: WORK.  Ellan and Heather just ROCK! 

Well, final score is Home: 6  Work: 7.  I should just stop here while work is still ahead since that is my plan anyway.  I would hate to convince myself otherwise.  So back to work it is.....Monday will be here so quickly.  I'm OK with it.  I really am.  I could use maybe another month or so at home, but I can suck it up and get back to business!   Look out, ladies.....I'm comin' back!!!! (Just in case you were worried)

But it's gonna be hard leaving these sweet faces

Kitchen Table Confessions

My hometown church has a practice of having silent confessions.  During Mass the congregation is led by Father Bob in a meditation of confession.  Today was a Confession Sunday.  I was nervous only because I just couldn't imagine that my three boys could sit quietly through a group meditation. 

In the meditation we are asked to picture ourselves at our kitchen table sitting across from Jesus.  We are to speak freely and openly to him about our concerns, our sins, and whatever else is on our hearts.  It is a truly wonderful experience and I encourage each of you to do it in your own time. 

For many Catholics confession can be daunting.   Confessing your sins out loud to anyone takes guts even if it is a Priest you feel will protect your inner most thoughts and actions.  The Priest is the medium to a discussion with Jesus and the Kitchen Table Confession is a more direct, and likely more open and honest, way to confess our sins. 

I was pleased when all three of my boys were able to remain silent throughout the meditation.  I had attempted to educate them ahead of time of what was to occur and they really took an interest in it.  I also thoroughly enjoyed that immediately following the silent confession period both boys openly confessed that they did not keep their eyes closed the entire time.  Love their honesty!

While I won't go in to the details of my own confession for obvious reasons, I think it's safe to say that I, like most parents, had confessions related to my parenting.  Parenting is so hard.  So very, very hard.  Made harder right now just be the sheer lack of sleep due to having a newborn.  It's a reality that every new parent understands.  It is what it is, I always say!

So, for every time (and there are many....too many) that I feel my parenting is sub-par and for the times when I lose my cool and berate myself for not being grateful enough to still have my children to hold tightly in my arms and tell them I love them, I will instead try to come back to this blog and this time and this experience and remember that I am giving my children the best gift a parent can give: a lesson in prayer and a relationship with Jesus. 

I, like everyone, am so very heavyhearted about the tragedy in Connecticut this past week.  I have a kindergartner and I am better off emotionally if I don't try to put myself in a position of the parents who lost their children.  I am better off just to pray for them in every way possible and to raise my children to do the same. 

So tonight, I revisited the Kitchen Table Confession concept with the boys as a bedtime experience.  Justin's very first statement was "Mom, we can't forget to pray for those kids that died."  Oh, I know honey.   Oh, how I know! 

I asked them to pray their own prayers tonight and talk to Jesus in their hearts.  And of course they have little concept of doing anything quietly or silently in their heads so their "silent" discussion with Jesus at bedtime was spoken aloud. 

Justin's:  Jesus, help me not to kick my brother and not yell at my mom and to make better choices.  And please take care of the kids that were killed today.

Leo's:  Jesus, help me get Will's binky when he 'pits it out and not to yell at my brother when he poops and pees a lot. 

(I especially liked how each of them prayed about how to be a better brother to their younger sibling.)

I encourage you to have a Kitchen Table Discussion with Jesus tonight.  I believe the visual aspect of picturing ones self sitting at the table for the discussion gives extra support to the prayer experience.  For me, I am able to picture Jesus' peaceful and open expression as I confess my deepest thoughts and sins.  No judgement.  No worry that it will result in gossip about me or my loved ones.  No hurt feelings.  And most importantly, forgiveness.  Sweet and complete forgiveness. 

Private Parts Not so Private

We all knew this was coming.  Or at least I did.  Two young boys at home plus pregnancy and the aftermath made the situation prime for awkward conversations.  I have been fortunate to avoid the "where do babies come from" discussion.  Sidestepped that one on several occasions with the simple response of "from God."  Thus far that has satisfied the boys. 

And then there's the one of "How does the baby come out."  Again, the most simple response of "the doctor took him out" has passed for acceptable for both boys.  However, Justin was very concerned about how much it would hurt me (sweet kid) and has repeatedly stated how happy he is that he is a "dude" so he doesn't have to ever have a doctor take a baby out of him.  No joke, dude! 

And....then there's breastfeeding.  I was unsure how it was going to work this go around with two boys who would be overly aware of what is going on.  When Leo was born Justin was not even 2 yet and hardly paid any attention.  Not so much this time.  They love to be right up in the mix.  For the most part they are unfazed with the fact that Will eats from my breast.  There were a few initial questions about it but that has pretty much ceased by this point.  I'm not a very modest person and while I try to not to display my everything to them every day I don't go hide in another room or cover up with a cape if I am nursing Will at home even if the boys are present.  Judge me if you want, but this works for me.  Actually the boys seem to find my nursing Will to be a very sweet time and they like to kiss his forehead and rub his hair when he eats.  I think it makes them feel like they are a part of the experience.  I continue to be amazed at how loving they are towards him without a single indication of jealousy yet.

BUT, I was caught off guard a little bit tonight.  Everyone was in bed sleeping (I thought).  I fed Will and then balanced him on my lap while I proceeded to pump.  I didn't bother to cover up because I (wrongly) assumed that everyone was asleep.  Oh nooooooo.  Here comes Justin.  Strolling down the stairs announcing that he might throw up.  GREAT.  In reality he is a male and just had a little cough that he had to dramatize into a potential vomiting episode.  Fortunately we were later able to resolve that issue with a cough drop.  But I'm getting off track here.

So there I am sitting in my recliner with the girls hanging out.....or rather pointing out into cones as the pump sucks the life, uh ummm, I mean the milk out of me.  It takes all hands to make this situation work.  I'm trying to balance a 2 week old on my lap while holding two bottles.  Mama ain't got another hand to find a way to cover up. But I tried.  I balanced one bottle with my chin, let go of Will for 3 seconds and grabbed the new nursing wrap that my friend had just made me.  Fortunately it was within arms reach.  I couldn't put it on but I could at least throw it over my chest for some privacy.

Too late.  I was exposed.  He saw.  And the questions began. 

What's that noise?  It's the pump.

What's the pump?  It helps get the milk.

For Will? Yes, for Will.

Oh, that's how you measure it?  Yeah, to measure it (because the only thing he has seen is the end result of measuring how many ounces I produced).

So, ummmm, Mom.  Those things are your privates, right?  Ummm, yeah, they are my privates.

So, Will eats out of your privates?  Ok, I guess you could say that.

Hmmmm.  If I called them boobs I would get in trouble, right?  Right.  We call them breasts.

Ok.  So I'll just call them privates and Will eats out of your privates.  Ok, let's get you a cough drop so you can just rest and go to bed.

That's enough for me, folks.  Good night! 

I AM WOMAN (my roar is silent)

There is no doubt we've got some fun personalities in this family.  I am sure this is made clear if you have ever met us, read a Facebook post, or any of these blogs. 

For the most part I tend to like, or rather, be thoroughly entertained by the boys personalities.  They are a constant source of laughter for me and one of the main reasons I started this blog.  I love being able to capture their funny moments to read again later.  I cannot wait to see where Will's personality will land among all of the goofiness we have going on here.  Wondering if his timing will be as sharp as Justin's or if his expressions will be as adorable as Leo's.  Or something way different.  I can't wait to experience his personality!

Occasionally I am taken aback by a certain aspect of the boys personalities.  Something catches me off guard.  This was the case yesterday afternoon when Justin took us straight back to the 1950's. 

So the story goes like this:

Leo: I dropped my car behind the couch.

Me: You will have to wait until Dad gets home to move the couch and get it for you.

Justin:  No.  No.  I can get it for you.  Mom can't do it.  

Me: Justin, how are you going to get back there?

Justin: Ummmmm, because I'm a MAN!  Mens are just stronger, mom, and they can do more stuff than womens. 

Me:  Oh really? 

Justin:  Yeah, Men like challenges.  I am a man.  I will get it for him.  Don't worry about it mom.  (He went downstairs to get his light saber sword to use in retrieving the Hot Wheel.  After a few failed attempts at using the light saber to scoop it up....'cuz that's a genius manly move.... I suggested that he use it to kick the Hot Wheel all the way to the side of the couch where they can then just pick it up)

Justin: Well, womens have good ideas sometimes but men are still stronger and like more challenges.  Womens try to do the easies but men really like doing the hard challenges.  Boys really try to do stuff great.

Me:  Women do great things too.

Justin:  Well, yeah, sometimes they do.  But boys are just.....ummmm.....they are AWESOME!  They are better than women.  But that's bragging and we shouldn't really brag so I won't say that anymore.  It's just that women try to do the easies and men like challenges.  Don't worry about it mom.  I mean you have a baby to take care of so I'll just take care of this. 

And then he proceeded to use the light saber to move the car to the side of the couch, per my suggestion.  To which Leo gave him full credit for his success (no recognition for it being mom's idea). 

That's about right.  Typical male.  It's not that Jeremy has demonstrated any overly sexist behaviors for the boys, but apparently my being home every day in my new mommy mode while Jeremy has been scrambling around the house finalizing renovations has brought out the old-fashioned male/female roles in our home. And Justin, the ever observant 5 year old, has apparently picked up on what he must see as some gender inequities in our household. Or perhaps he is just a raging sexist. It's hard to say at this point.

I mean, I get it.  I'm spending more time than usual in my recliner with my feet up.  I move a little bit slower as my body recovers from giving birth.  I ask for a few more favors than usual.  I miiiiiight look a wee bit more disheveled than usual.  On the other hand their father is moving furniture from room to room with only the occasional grunt or grimace.  Big whoop.  Let's see him push a baby out of his body with no epidural and then follow it up with some rock hard boobs accompanied by some bleeding nipples while a tiny mouth sucks the life out of him.  All on about 3 hours of sleep.  How 'bout them apples, Justin?  Who's stronger now?  Who's up for THAT challenge?  Oh wait.....am I BRAGGING too much for ya? 

Here's a nice womanly idea for ya, since that's all we are good for.  How about next time you kids lose a toy behind the couch you give me some credit for its retrieval.  Too much to ask?  Too big of a challenge for ya?  That's OK.  I am woman.  (My roar is just silent so as to seem effortless).   

Dear Baby O'Brien

Oh my goodness.  It's been about 4 months since I have written a blog post.  Time gets away from me and I've been a little busy growing a baby.  I started this blog a few months ago and never finished it.  Now that I am nearing my due date I feel the need to get it done before the baby arrives.


Dear Baby O'Brien (or BOB as Mimi calls you),

All of the baby books and baby magazines suggest writing a sweet little letter to my unborn child and tuck it away for you to read later (like age 4 when you are a genius child and can read earlier than all of your friends.....no pressure).  Some moms write poems, others keep a journal.   As you will soon learn, that sort of crap really annoys me.  I'm not really the touchy feely kinda mom, or person for that matter.  Don't get me wrong, I love me a good snuggle and will love you unconditionally for as long as we both live, and then some.  But I'm not sappy.  Never have been.  Never will be.  Welcome to my world.  Your dad calls me the Ice Queen.  It's a fairly reasonable assessment.

So staying with the theme of being direct, here's just a few things I want to share:

- I wish you would stop tap dancing on my bladder.  But I love you anyway.  Oh lookie there.  Some sappiness snuck in. Must be the pregnancy hormones.  Anywho, I like tap dancing so I kind of see where you are coming from.  Oh but wait, you are head down (hopefully) so really you are head butting or punching my bladder.  Well, you will fit in just fine with your brothers then.  Your dad has taught them an lovely little affectionate name for head butting.  They call it Irish kisses. 

- Several times in your life you will hear people ask me if I wanted a girl since I already have two boys.  The answer is that I am perfectly happy to have a 3rd boy.  In fact I prefer it.  We are all set up for boys here and we already know what doing (in theory).  And honestly I'm not very girly.  If you were a girl I was under a lot of pressure from some of my friends to constantly put you in frilly clothes with bows on your head.  Thank goodness we dodged that bullet!  My only real issue with having another boy is that I am horrible at playing boy games.  I can't make a car motor sound to save my life.  And I have no idea what to do when playing army men or crashing cars into each other.  I find myself trying to play house with them and that doesn't go over well with your brothers.  But lucky for you you have two brothers and a father who will fill that roll just fine.

- I am so ready for your arrival.  Mostly so that Leo will stop calling me "Big Momma" every day.  (hopefully)  On the other hand I will miss his very sweet little way of asking me every day "How's the baby feeling today?  Is he punching you very much?"

- Actually I'm not ready for your arrival at all.  I did wash your clothes already so you will have the necessities of food and clothing.  You don't have a room or crib ready yet but honestly I don't think you will even notice.  And if you do, you can't talk yet so my guilt will be limited to some degree.  And that is really the most important thing in this equation. 

- You don't have a name yet.  We are getting closer.  You had one for a while, Owen Zachary, and it's still an option but I found I couldn't limit myself to it so now we have 4 names to choose from and probably won't decide until you are born.  That's probably the only other reason I wish that you were a girl.  We have a great girl name picked out and seems we will never get to use it.  Unless we decide to give you a playmate in a few years.  Then you are off the hook. 

- I hope you are born before Halloween because I got you  super cute little Halloween outfit to wear that day.  But I hope you are not born on Halloween Day. 

- You will like raw cookie dough.  And cookies.  It's a requirement for my children.  Don't disappoint me.  I might disown you. 

- I hope you can learn to appreciate hand-me-downs.  Because all gifts for your first few birthdays and Christmas are likely to just be things we already had for your brothers re-wrapped with your name on it. 

- I don't know what the hell you have done to my hair.  (Oh, and I cuss.)  In the early stages of my pregnancy you gave off some sort of vibe that made it oddly wavy in one spot.  I thought that was bad enough.  I was wrong.  Somehow you are now emitting some sort of hormone that has caused a greasy spot on the crown of my head.  No amount of washing or avoidance of hair products can reduce this spot.  I wake up in the morning looking like I stuck my finger in a light socket with greasy spikes of hair sticking up off my head.  It's as if while I sleep you are frying up some bacon in there and running it through my veins to my scalp. 

So that's just a few things you should know.  There are many more of course and sadly for you your learning experiences will likely be documented on this blog for current and future entertainment of myself and others.

I love you already and I can't wait to meet you!!!!
Love
Mom

Gymnastics

I started this post a few weeks ago and today as I sit here and watch the National Championships I decided to make time to finish it. 

"Would you let your daughter do gymnastics?"  I've been asked that question a thousand times in my adult life and my answer is pretty much always the same.  My first answer is that I think every toddler should do gymnastics.  Male or female.  It teaches coordination, how to play, how to listen and follow directions.  There aren't very many other activities that I can think of to do with your 2-3 year old that are better than a Tiny Tot gymnastics class.

But that's not what people are really asking.  What they are really asking when they hear the level of gymnastics that I did is would you let your child train an incredible amount of hours every week of the year, possibly move away from home, miss out on all "normal" growing up activities, and put such stress on the body at a young age? 

My answer is yes.  But it's not a simple yes.  Parenting decisions never are.  But the answer isn't just that yes, I would let my daughter compete in elite gymnastics.  It's yes, I will support my children to the best of my ability in any sport or activity that they desire to partake in. 

Will I spend the time, money, effort, and emotions supporting my children?  Umm, yeah.  As long as it remains the right choice for our family, the answer is yes.  Is gymnastics different than when I was 15?  SO MUCH.  But everything evolves.  I suspect the 30 something year olds watching Nationals in the 90's felt the same way.  It's just about perspective, I think. 

What I won't do is try to relive my experience through theirs.  There is so much controversy these days about elite gymnastics. Or maybe there isn't anymore than there has been in the past.  Maybe it's just that now I am an adult and seeing it from a different perspective.  Or maybe it's that the media plays it up.  Or that we all have Facebook to discuss it until we are bored to tears.  It's likely a combination of all. 

I posted something similar to this on a friend's Facebook page a few weeks ago.  The original post was about the destructiveness of elite gymnastics and the controversy about putting kids through it.  My response is that there are some girls that have a rough go of it and come out very scarred.  There are many others that come out just fine.   I suspect we just don't hear from them as much because they are going about their adult lives and treating their time as a gymnast as something they once did.  Not who they are.  Or who they were.  Or who they had the potential to be.....if only......

I went through a tough gym.  It didn't always have the best reputation, but I'm certainly not scarred for the rest of my life because of it.  I have lots of great memories.  Learned a lot of really good life skills such as focus, hard work, dedication, concentration, seeing things through to the end.  And how to cuss.  I learned how to drop a good F bomb, too.  So maybe not all of it was appropriate, but I made it through.  And honestly, those skills (including the F-bomb) have really served me well in life.  I could choose to focus on any negative memories, but that is true of every life experience.  And there were plenty of tough times, but now I can look back on them and laugh a little and realized what I learned from them.  How I want to do it different in a current situation in my life.  When I want to raise my own white flag and take a break.  Or when I need to suck it up and keep on pushing.  I don't need to look back on those tough times and whine about what could have been or "if only" it to death.  I learned how to take responsibility for my actions.  Not to blame someone else (like my coach, or the process, or the equipment).  Even if it was after the fact.  Life lesson learned.

Don't get me wrong.  It wasn't all sunshine.  There were tough times.  Like the times where I wasn't working hard enough or not working up to my potential and I was yelled at by my coaches.   Oh and the incessant hours of training and conditioning to be stronger and more fit.  That's right.  Big fat shocker there.  A coach yelled at an athlete to work harder, smarter, faster, and more perfectly.   THAT never happens in other sports.  So maybe it doesn't happen to 12 year olds in other sports, but it's not as if we all got into the sport not knowing that the peak ages are pre-teen and teenage years.  We weren't being forced to compete at these levels.  We did it by choice.  We aren't like other countries where the athlete's families are dependent on their success.  Some girls had families whose egos depended on their success, but not their livelihood. 

So those that speak the loudest about their suffering have always gotten attention.  The media eats that shit up.  And then dramatizes it a little bit, or a lot of bit, and makes it seem like the norm.  And then writes a book about it and makes it into a made for TV movie.  Because those things are always accurate!  It gives this unfair perception that the whole sport and the current selection process is all wrong.  Horrible for the athletes and the sport itself.  I will say that I know very little about the current system, but I suspect there were some retired gymnasts/parents saying the same thing about our system when we were going through it.  It's just perspective.  Don't pretty much all sports utilize competition as well as practices and training camps to determine their starting line up?  Because they want to win?  I can vividly recall every college gymnastics team changing the line up meet to meet and at the last minute in order to put up the best gymnasts that the team needed that particular competition.  Some girls come out of college gymnastics with the same issues.  Some come out with a positive experience. Some don't.   Some come out with glowing memories.  Some come out with scars (mental, emotional, and physical).  Does it make it right or wrong?  A horrible process or just one that wasn't a right fit for that athlete?  It makes it life.  What's so different with elite gymnastics?  There's only so many spots available and the Olympics only come around once every 4 years.  So not everyone is gonna make it.  That's called life.  It fits right along with my irritation that every kid gets a trophy at the end of sporting events because we don't want to identify a winner.  Whatever.  It's called competition for a reason. 

So, will I let my child do gymnastics?  Sure.  As long as it continues to be the right choice for our child and our family.  The same way we make every other parenting decision.  As my mom has always said, "I did the best I could with what I knew at the time."  That's parenting.  That's sports.  That's life.