Telephone...

I never leave my kids alone, never. I really am the most overprotective mom there is, and I take them with me EVERYWHERE. When I lived with my parents right after the divorce it wasn't a problem because usually there was someone around to watch them if I needed to run somewhere really quickly. Now there is no one here for that, so everywhere we go I load them up and drag them along. But today we had been having some outside, rockin' summer fun, and they were filthy. It was almost dinner time and I had to run to the store for a couple of ingredients, the store was set to close in ten minutes, but the kids were the kind of dirty where you just COULDN'T take them in public. So I figured, they are nine and six now, AND the store is less than a block away, AND I only needed milk and cheese, which is located fairly close to the check out stand, AND we live in a super teeny town where everyone trusts everyone, and no one locks their doors, so SURELY they would be alright for five minutes while I ran there and back, right??? I left STRICT instructions not to answer the phone or door NO MATTER WHAT! But knowing my kids I also added "and DO NOT tell anyone you are home alone!" Feeling confident and that all my bases were covered, and feeling like maybe we could handle this single parent family thing alright I set out, speeding to the store, sprinting through the isles, cutting off an elderly man at the checkout, you know all the stuff a confident single mom does on a regular basis...:)

When I got home Ethan informs me that "Ad-i-a an-swered the pho-one" in that sing song voice that brothers use when they know SOMEBODY'S getting in trouble. Adia pipes right up, "yeah, but I took a good message. I made him spell everything out so I got it all just right. And he had no idea we were all alone." Because correct spelling is SO important when it could be Chester the Molester on the phone waiting for just the right moment to break in and steal my children... So as Ethan went to go get the message I what she said if she didn't tell him I wasn't home. She answered with a huge grin, "Oh, I just said 'my mom's naked, so she can't talk on the phone right now.' " I am slightly mortified, and kind of want to hide under the bed. I am praying it was a salesman that I will never hear from again, or someone like that. I pray that it was NOT the board member of the social work program at my school that I had been expecting a call from all evening. Well it wasn't any of those people. Nope, it was our new BISHOP wondering if I could meet with him on Sunday! Nope I can't make that meeting I am going to need to move and change my identity now in order to avoid further embarrassment, thanks very much for asking though...

Fresh Breath.

Adia has been having some growing pains lately, so we have been putting Bengay (generic, but like that) on her legs at night to ease the pain. We keep the tube in the top drawer of the bathroom along with a lot of other things, hair clips, fingernail polish, makeup, toothpaste...The tube looks remarkably like the "spiderman blue raspberry smoothy" toothpaste that Ethan uses... (Though the actual cream looks nothing alike, which is why the story is still a bit of a mystery to me)This morning I was cleaning up after breakfast when I hear screaming. This isn't the, my sister just flushed when I was in the shower kind of screaming. It was pain... agony... real. I rushed down the hall just in time to be plowed into by Ethan. "Mom, My mouth is on FIRE! Like... real... FIRE!!!" I can see his eyes welling up with tears. He is dancing around. His breath smells quite spicy, and very unlike a spiderman blue raspberry smoothy. I think maybe he was brushing with my toothpaste instead, but that didn't smell quite right either. He is now rolling on the floor in pain. I rush him into the bathroom and we start rinsing his mouth out, all the while he is screeching that it is getting worse. And now his eyes are burning too because he was wiping the tears away, and there must be some on his hands. Is this something that needs medical attention? Why on earth did we move to a town with no hospital or insta-care? I know I have to find out what the mystery toothpaste is, and fast, before we set anything else to burning. And then I see it, the Bengay. And I remember that lately I have been getting after Ethan for using an un-realisticly huge amount of toothpaste when he brushes. So the poor guy must have a quarter cup of the stuff in his mouth, and you know how that stuff burns and then gets worse and worse. I remember that sometimes if you use soap to wash it off, that helps, so I rinse out the Bengay toothbrush, and squirt a little antibacterial hand wash - Cherry blossom- Thanks Bath and Body Works- onto the brush. I Brush for all I'm worth... and he starts gagging. And then he pukes, and it BURNS his little throat. And we are both in tears, Ethan is still gagging, and Adia is in the background dry heaving. Finally the soap helps, and it starts to cool, and Ethan starts feeling a little better. I rush to grab the phone and call poison control. I tell them that Ethan swallowed Bengay. They ask what happened, and I tell them the whole story - they LAUGH! I find out that if he threw up he should be fine, but to give him plenty of liquids - warm is preferable to cold because the Bengay heat intensifies when it gets cold - wish I would have thought of THAT before I forced him to drink ice cold water strait out of the tap earlier. And keep and eye on him. I hang up. I give him some cocoa. I make Adia some too because she doesn't want to be left out. I clean up the puke. I put the Bengay up on the shelf. Then it hits me, this is pretty funny. I understand why the poison control guy giggled (though, still not very professional.) I start laughing too. Adia joins me. Ethan gets this look on his face that he gives me sometimes, when he thinks I'm really annoying. That makes me laugh harder. I change my puked on clothes, and sit down to blog, because these are the moments of our lives, and wouldn't it be a shame if we didn't share them?

Doves.

Image courtisey of client safari

None of the doves I have been in contact with recently would make a very good picture

So something totally bad is happening. I think it's a sign, and not a good one! Let me explain, and tell me what you think.

I have a big bay window in my room, and when I first moved here I was standing in the window, looking out, and a dove flew right into it. Right next to where my head was. It hit hard too. It splattered... stuff... all over the window, and left a bird shaped smudge of the glass. (really, you could see the head, the wings, everything, and it was totally hard to get off!) It died. I was traumatized.

A few weeks later Ethan ran a bird over with his bike. He didn't mean to, it was just sitting there, and didn't move, and his "brain forgot to tell his legs to stop pedaling" Guess what kind of bird it was... yeah, it was totally a dove.

A few weeks after that the kids and I were going outside. I opened the door, and a dove flew straight at me, hitting the brick next to the door frame, and knocking it out for a second. I stood there looking at it, wondering what to do, when it all of a sudden came alive and flew under the couch. We weren't really sure what to do. It took some coaxing, but finally I moved the couch, and the kids made a mad dash for it. Ethan caught it, and threw it out the door, and nothing got "doved" on, but it was really strange. And pretty freaky.

Then today I was driving down the road on my way to take Ethan to an appointment in Monticello. A group of birds flew right in front of my car, and I hit one. Oops! So I drive all the way to Monticello. As I drive through town I see several people I know, and wave to them. Everyone gives me kind of funny looks though. I know that I have been gossiped about by a few people, lately, and I think it might have something to do with that, so I try not to get my feelings hurt, and keep driving. We stop at the hospital and get out, and then I see it. That "bird" I hit earlier happened to be a dove, and it got it's little head stuck in my grill, and it's lifeless body had been bouncing around on the front of my car all the way from La Sal. Nice right? I had to pry it out with a stick, and then some mean guy yelled at me about not leaving it there in the hospital parking lot. (I pretended I didn't hear him, and left it there anyway. What was I supposed to do with it, stick it in my purse until I found a garbage can?)

So here is the thing. I am getting a little self-conscious. It would be one thing if it was several kinds of birds, but it isn't. It's always a dove. I am trying to figure it out, but the only thing that keeps coming to me is the fact that a dove is the sign of

Peace

and love,

and I keep KILLING IT!!!

This is not a great thing for my life right now. I want love. I want peace.

I don't want to be a "murderer of love!"

(From one of my all time favorite movies - name it!)

So give me a few ideas here. I totally believe in signs, and this totally is one. So what does it mean? I would prefer ideas that are nicer than "murderer of love" but truth would work too:). Let me know what you think. I know several of you love analyzing things like this, so I am expecting some responses here people.

Oh, and here is a little update. I just found out that this kind of dove is called a Mourning Dove. NOT"Morning" like I had always thought. NOT like the happy, sunshiny, fresh start- kind of dove! More like the pain, misery, deep sense of loss- kind of dove!Nice! This can't be good, can it?)

Remember the time I had to wander around a men's restroom in the dark?

This is the sentence I am going to be using to get Ethan to do things that I don't want to for a LONG time. One thing you don't think about when you get a divorce is the public restroom situation. It isn't a big deal when Adia has to go because I can go in too, but when Ethan has to go it's a disaster waiting to happen. I stand outside the door anxiously waiting and hoping and praying that he will make it out without causing a flood or some kind of contention, or an inappropriate flushing incident. It usually ends with me standing outside the door shouting, "Ethan if you aren't out here by the time I count to five I'm coming in, and that's going to embarrass both of us!" Anyway, lately Ethan has had a really bad habit of turning off the light when he leaves a public restroom. Sometimes it doesn't matter, but sometimes there are other people in there, and it is a problem. Usually someone gives a little holler and Ethan will go back in and flip it on again. I'm not sure why he has this problem, he doesn't turn out ANY lights at our house... but back to the matter at hand. Right after the divorce we were traveling a little bit, and we used a LOT of public restrooms. This little lights out problem happened repeatedly, but it was never much of a big deal. Then came the last night of our vacation. We were eating at a restaurant, and Ethan went to the restroom. I was waiting outside the door for him. When he came out he flipped off the light. I started to remind him to turn it back on when all of a sudden a string of profanity came full speed out of the restroom. Somebody had been in there, and he was MAD! Really mad. He had some impressive word-combining skill, and came up with some very colorful sentences. I told Ethan to go back in and turn it on, but he was scooting back against the opposite wall, his eyes the size of dinner plates, and worry etched on his face. Again I said "Ethan, go in there and turn the light on." He looked at me, with is scared little face, and just shook his head slightly.

"Ethan, you have to, that guy is mad!"

Another little shake of the head.

They guy in the bathroom is getting MORE angry, if that's possible. We can hear his frustration through the now closed bathroom door. Something had to be done.

"Ethan, I'm not kidding"

He suddenly springs into life. He takes off toward our table. "I'm going to get Grandpa."

But I know that my dad is already in the truck waiting for us. And now nearly everyone in the restaurant is looking our way, wondering what I had done to make the "Angry Pooper" so vocal. There was only one thing to do. I had to flip the light on. I opened the door, and stuck my hand in. I felt all along the wall, as far as I could reach. Nothing. No switch. They guy is still yelling. He isn't making any effort to come out of the stall and turn it on himself. Several people are still looking my way, but no one is coming to my aid. (Thanks all of you LAZY men!) I swing the bathroom door open wide to allow for as much light as I can get. Then I plunge into the bathroom, which smells just about the way you would think a men's bathroom might smell, only times ten (Yuck! That's how I know to call him the "angry pooper". It was obvious what he was doing in there, and probably that is why he was so mad about the little predicament, and why he made no move to remedy the situation...) I still can't see the switch, and the door is about to swing closed again. Just as the light dims I see the switch on the opposite wall from where I had been looking. I dive for it, just as the light ends. I feel around the wall in the dark, finally find the switch, flip it on, cover my eyes just in case somebody was exposed. I dart for the door, dash across the restaurant and into the freedom of the outdoors, run across the parking lot, jump in the truck and yell for my dad to "GO! Drive!" You would think I had just held up the place or something, but I did need to make a get away, and fast before anyone saw my face. Whew, and then I was safe. But I do think I will avoid Price, Ut and the surrounding areas for a while just in case someone might recognize me! On second thought maybe we should avoid public places all together for a while...