Pictures tell a story.  Some are hilarious, some are sad… some tell a story about how bad the photographer is at taking pictures (usually the bucket my pictures fall in).

But every once in a while I surprise myself with my photographer skills (aka, the universe lines it up for me).

A few weeks ago my family and I ran a 5k together.  My hubs, my mom, my seven-year-old daughter, my three-year-old son, and I all lined up at the starting line.

Growing up I was never a runner unless I was either running for my life (and was feeling exceptionally lucky that day) or I was running toward chocolate.  Running was torture so I never did it.  But two years ago I started and now I love it.  And I’m thrilled when I can share it with my family.

We started off strong.  My husband and son lagged behind a little but that was expected.  My husband said he would hang back with Roman so my mom, Bella, and I kept going.  Then Bella said she wanted to “take a little break”.  I tried to encourage her to go a little farther but my mom said, “I’ve got her.  You go ahead.”  Knowing that if I stopped running I was done, I kept going.

After running over half way I suddenly stopped.  I wanted to cross the finish line with my family!  I thought if I started walking slowly they’d catch me.  But I got elbowed in the face and trampled a few times so that idea was crap.

I kept going and decided that if I couldn’t cross with them, I’d try to take pictures of my babies and my hubs finishing their first 5k!  And my beautiful mom, the 5k pro.

Once I finished the race I positioned myself at the finish line, iPhone camera ready.

I waited.  And waited.  Aaaaaand waaaaaited.  Aaaan- WAIT!  There they are!  My husband… and… well, this is what I saw:


On the surface, it’s a dad carrying his little guy.

But it’s more than that.  It’s a lesson on how to be a Dad.  More than that… how to be a parent.

Here’s why:

Upon detailed inspection of the picture, you’d see that my son has a scraped knee.  He fell hard about a mile into the 3.2 mile race so my husband carried him rest of the way because Roman pretty much refused to move on his own.

{An important fact that you can’t know from looking at the picture is that my husband has a bad shoulder.  He’s right handed but carrying our little man with is left arm because his right shoulder is so bad.  What you also wouldn’t be able to ascertain from simply looking at the picture is that, as athletic as his is, this was my husband’s very first 5k.}

Having the back story, here is what that picture tells me about the man I chose as my children’s dad:

  1. A real dad will pick you up when you fall.
  2. A real dad will put your comfort above his own.
  3. A real dad will share with you his success and carry you across his finish line.
  4. A real dad doesn’t give up.
  5. A real dad leads by example.

I could have come up with more but I really like the number five.

What’s even more incredible is that my husband wasn’t taught this by his dad.  So for all those deadbeats out there who use the “I didn’t have a dad to teach me” excuse, consider this picture my middle finger.

When I saw them cross the finish line I couldn’t help but get teary eyed.  Partly because the look on my son’s face was awesome.  He was so proud of the race his dad carried him in he ran.

{Nothing to see here… just me running a race with my dad… nbd.}

But mostly, it was because I was reminded that my kids have a rare, wonderful dad.

Let’s celebrate awesome parents.  I’m tweeting this one out #prettyawesomeparent

And here’s Super Nonna with one proud little Bella!

super nonnasuper nonna 2

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