A Small Town Family: The Daytona 500

Around our house, the Daytona 500 is bigger than the superbowl. We usually have a big party with lots of food, noise, people and beer. And lots of work for me. This year we decided the party was too much work for an almost 7 months pregnant person who delivered her first baby early, so Chucky went out to someone else's house to watch the race.

"Go, Junior, go!" (A direct quote from our 2 year old. We are so proud.) Meanwhile Linton shouted "Go, Stony Stewart, go!" And back and forth they shouted! I even got it on video. When they are older and we play it at their graduation they will love us.

My friend Sharon and her two boys came over to our house to play with Emma. We ordered pizza, tried to watch the race, tried to talk, and tended to the children. More than once, I wondered what happened to our old selves. Here we were, quickly shoving pizza into our mouths and cutting up pizza for the kids, and listening to a crying baby and whining older kids who didn't want to share. Did we used to go out to dinner with our husbands and look at families like ours are now and shake our heads, declaring them crazy? Then did we go bowling or to a movie and actually talk? I think we did. And I think we were wrong about them being crazy, and I think we probably talked about stuff that doesn't matter now, like shopping and who's dating now . . . Now it feels like a race every day in our house, a race with people, noise, food and beer juice. And it's bigger than the superbowl and the Daytona 500. It's life and I love it. But sometimes, I just want to watch the race dammit.

Linton plays