Page 96 of The Champion

I once took him grocery shopping with me and this olderwoman, clearly a fan of NASCAR with her Tate Harris memorabilia plastered allover her, stopped us near the checkout counter.

“Wow,” she gasped staring at a 3-year old Axel. “He looksjust like Jameson Riley, the NASCAR driver.”

I smile politely at her.

“Yeah well,” I began. “If you see him around the track,tell him his wife said hello.”

By her reaction to this statement, that was the last timeI ever told someone I was married to the Jameson Riley. Her reaction was asthough I told her I was married to Brad Pitt for crying out-loud. Took us 45minutes to get away from her and from that point on, Emma did my shopping forme.

This had its own drawbacks but it was worth it not to runinto fans at the grocery store.

“Mama?” Axel called out with a mouth full of ice cream.“Re-Re stole Mr. Wiggles.” Ice cream trickled down his chin and onto his grayJAR Racing t-shirt.

“Well get him back from her.” I replied closing thedishwasher door and starting the final load of dishes from last night’s dinner.I should have done them last night but Jameson got home around nine and well,we got distracted once the kids were in bed.

“She not giving back. I need back!”

This was my life these days. My kids fought all the timeand if they’re not fighting with each other...they’refighting us. The bad part of this was—they won. Most of the time, theirarguments were worse it public or at the track. I always sensed when Jamesonwas getting stressed as they fed off him and then everyone was upset. To befair, Jameson was working most of the time he was at the track and having thekids there shot his anxiety levels through the roof. Now he not only hadhimself to worry about but what he said and did directly affected a family. Afamily that was there at the track with him and was subjected to the judgingmedia.

In turn, there were times when Jameson had the occasionaloutburst at Axel’s tendency to run away at the least opportune times. Like whencars were driving past in the paddock or garage area. The kids threw fits atthe worst possible times and when we were in a hurry, they decided at thatmoment to slow down.

“Mama!” Axel screamed throwing himself on the floor.“Give it back!”

“Arie, give Axel back his Mr. Wiggles.” I told her takingMr. Wiggles from her chubby little hands.

Her response: “No!”

That was her standard answer for everything and wasusually followed by a tremendous amount of wailing and tears.

Arie had just turned two in September and if I thoughtAxel worked us over at times; Arie put him to shame. She could get absolutelyanything from Jameson with just a flutter of her beautiful thick black lashes.

When she was born, Jameson was in awe at how much sheresembled me but I saw Jameson in her features as well her attitude. She hadhis smirk for one, his lips, and of course his exact color of hair with myemerald eyes. Axel had the lighter, grass green that Jameson had.

Life was changing as it always did. We were still livingin Mooresville but we kept the house on Summit Lake for the weekends we visitedElma. Another baby was on the way, yeah, quick I know. Imagine my surprise.Arie was only 18-months old when I got pregnant with this new little spaz. Icried for nearly a month.

Jameson was on top of his career. He’d won fourback-to-back championships and finished second this year.

As always, time brought changes to our hectic lifestyles.

Trying to raise two kids on the road was hell. Ariethought for the first year of her life that home, was the motor coach. When wewere home, she cried. When in the motor coach, she was happy.

Axel wasn’t happy unless he was at the track with hisdad. When he was at home, he was asking when he could go back to the track andwhen daddy would be home—it was sometimes as though I didn’t exist to him.

Arie loved me though. Or at least she pretended well.

All this led to one thing, the crazy irrational kids andI traveled with Jameson. There were times when we stayed home, depending onwhat track he was racing at, but most of the time Thursday through Sunday, wewere at the track.

One bad thing about staying in a motor coach withJameson, me, Axel and Arie...the kidswere always around which left little alone time for the Mama Wizard and herDirty Heathen. We had to think of new inventive ways of getting alone time.

We made use of times like going out to dinner and carsworked good for the occasional dyno testing as well. Leaving the kids with Tateand his wife Eva was also an option on race weekends. They loved the kids asthough they were their own and Axel thought Tate was pretty cool. Alley andSpencer were also options but this always left the question of where to do itat, along with the harassment from Spencer.

Once, and I’m ashamed to admit this, we made use of abathroom in the pits. Embarrassing as hell, because Bobby picked that exactmoment to walk into the men’s rest room when I’m screaming like a hyena. Ittook me a while to realize why he kept smiling the rest of the weekend untilJameson confessed that Bobby felt badly for walking in and told him. I stillcan’t look at Bobby without my face turning a shade similar to the Devil’s ass.

After I ruled out bathrooms, cars always seemed to bewhere we got it on. This is why Ialwaysrequest a SUV when rentingcars. I’m not stupid. All this dyno testing might have something to do with thefact that I was once again, pregnant with another flailing spaz. I also put Mr.Jangles up for adoption. Damn thief.

Axel was now in school on Monday through Wednesday sothis meant most of the time I had to fly out a day later with the kids. That wasonly if Axel didn’t get into trouble. Parent teacher conferences were my leastfavorite thing to do. Honestly, I’d rather set myself on fire then attend aparent teacher conference where the teacher goes into detail about the time shemet my husband or Axel’s lack of concern for anything that doesn’t relate toracing.

We were hiring a private teacher for him next year.

---