30-1-30

Remember when we stole our firstborn child's first birthday to celebrate our own? It was too good to pass up: in the span of three weeks, I turned 30, Kenna turned 1, and Spencer turned 30, in that order. This, of course, called for JDawgs and kickball.

The finest little league field you've ever seen is on my block, the J.C. ballpark. I convinced the good city of American Fork to open up J.C.'s snack shack so we could serve food out of it. The fare: JDawgs, of course, peanuts, popcorn, Whoosh Cecil BYU Creamery ice cream, and bottled sodas. We provided sweatbands for all, different colors for the 30 and overs, the 30 and unders, and the 30 and holdings. And then we played ball with our favorite music blaring.

Somewhere between Europe's "The Final Countdown" and the Temptations' "My Girl," singing to my baby in her sweet hot pink Pumas and her baby blue sweat band, a bit JDawg sauce still stuck to my chin, surrounded by friends and family, I thought, "Life is good."