He Even Smells Like School

Could it be the bubbles he spilled on the deck just before coming inside?

Maybe it was the batch of salt dough we used to shape letters and numbers.

Could it have been the Spagettio's he loves to eat for lunch?

Or maybe just the nostalgic smell of Crayola Crayons?

Whatever it was, I almost cried. Almost.

Remember Building A Fort With Your Dad?

Yeah, me either. I remember doing other stuff* with my dad.

But, sadly for me, my forts consisted of a couple of rusty nails and a pallet or two.

They usually fell apart fast. Or they were moved. Or they were chopped up to keep us warm.

I liked to play on an old rotted stump in a line of trees on a little hill. In the summer the stump grew huckleberries. If I sat real still, no one could see me, and I could eat all the huckleberries before anyone else knew they were ripe.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I just never built anything like this with my dad.

Do you suppose they realize how lucky they are that all their dad wants to do is come home and play with them?

'Spose they'll remember tea parties in the fort after dark?

That it was Dad with them out there?

That Dad was the one who ran to the store to get the Oreos?

You bet they will!

*Other Stuff: castrating pigs and cows, watching piglets being born, butchering chickens, hiking, rollerskating, AWANA, picking berries, and most importantly- sneaking out to the bakery before school.

Ruining The Track Record

I have 5 kids.
I have been to the E.R.
I've been with a baby in tow when my 10 year old fell head first off the half wall onto the stairs below.
I've been in the middle of the night when the same child had a croup attack badly enough to make us call the neighbor and head out in the snow.
I've made appointments to have various items removed from facial orifices.
I've had an infant taken from the doctor's office to the Critical Care unit for pneumonia and RSV.
I've left church for stitches at the walk in clinic.
I've forgone stitches for butterflies.
But NEVER in my mommy career had I needed to call 911- until Tuesday.
Hello. My name is Gina. I'm a bad mom.
Hi Gina.

We have a prune tree. It's a nice tree. The prunes are really yummy, and we have been snacking on them for weeks. The kids have been moving higher and higher into the tree in their quest for the purple-black goodness. See:

But look again:

That's about 15 feet up. He's about 3 feet tall. He is 4 times over his head and more than twice over mine. And I mentioned the kids climb this tree. I do not. As nice and plummy as it is, it will not support me. I also couldn't find a ladder tall enough to get him down. Somehow he has gotten all the way out to the end of the branches- wearing his "new" camo rubber boots- that are 3 sizes too big for him and afford very little hold on the tree branch. Needless to say, he was not getting back. Enter 911.

I have mentioned I live in a small town, right? See this guy? Our families hang out. We barbecue. His wife does my hair. They go rafting with us. Um, yeah. "Hi, Officer Brian."

Luckily, the day before at preschool, they had a fire safety talk and had met a fire man. The fire man said that when a fire man comes to get you you go right to them. Good thing, because he knew exactly what to do.

It was all fun and games until he was safely on the ground.

Blew my track record right out of the water.

What To Eat... What To Eat?

I have this problem. I hate to make lunch. Seriously. What do you folks eat? I made a grilled cheese for lunch today, and half of it is still sitting on my desk- wishing itself into a Jack in the Box chicken sandwich. *sigh*
My better behaved self tells my spender that we need to eat at home, but we just can't seem to like anything in our fridge at lunch time.
HELP!!!

What She Said... What I Heard

What she said: "Mom, can we have a dog?"

What I heard: "Mom, how do you feel about having to scrape poop out of our yard for the next 18 years? Don't you just love getting into the car and then having every one do a 'shoe check' due to the peculiar smell? Are you overly anxious to spend gross amounts of money on food for such an animal? Do you think a German Shepard is a good choice for our corner lot right next to the school? How do you feel about fleas? Worms? Puppies?"

I shudder.


But should I, by chance, say yes to any of the above questions, what kind would I say yes to?