Monday, March 16, 2015

A Jumbled Post and Boy Things

(Re-posted Wednesday, March 18)

So I did it again: I accidentally hit "Publish" instead of "Save" here on Blogger the other night. Oh well, a partial and unedited post was up and I had no idea till the next day. I've no time for embarrassment anymore. I was sitting in the waiting room at the children's hospital when I decided to check my phone before we were called into the casting room, and I found a little note in my inbox about my post.

The night before I had just finished making my rounds, tucking children in and whispering bedtime prayers, when Jon called to say he'd be home by 9 o'clock. I wrapped up some work and prepared to take a run, even though I wasn't feeling like doing so. After touching base with Jon for several minutes, I headed out, telling him I'd be home after 4 miles. My run on Saturday had not been the most pleasant, and I sort of expected the same again. However, the night was cool and perfect and I felt better with each mile. I just kept running and I am still stunned by how well I feel. Has it really been the case that I've never known what it is like to have oxygen?! I circled through the neighborhood, up and down some pretty steep hills, and my thoughts were finally free and uninterrupted. The stars shone but the streets were dark, a dog barked at me and my heart did a little skip. I thrive on a little adventure that some would consider unsafe. I just kept running. I didn't know the time but I knew it is well past 10:00. A motorcycle came up from behind; it sounded like my husband's and I thought maybe he was out looking for me. After all, I was now in my seventh mile. I came around to the edge of a canyon, circled back, and took the long way home.

Once home, I could tell Jon was still working in his office upstairs, so I sat with a snack and opened up a new page here and started typing. When Jon joined me in the kitchen, I stopped typing, evidently clicked "Publish" and folded down the computer for the night. We sat on the kitchen counter and talked till after midnight. Those are the best kind of talks... unplanned, uninterrupted, and late at night!

So, sorry for that weird post.

Then, today Blogger sent out an old post to those who have subscribed. So strange. I am not responsible for that one, but perhaps one of the many kids who use my computer is. Maybe. Sorry for that, too.

Since everything related to my blog is so disjointed this week anyway, I will just continue in like fashion with the rest of this post. Here's basically what I had started...


The minutes pass quickly in the morning and I rush because it's time to wake the kids for school. I walk from the stairs towards the bedrooms and bend down to pick up a small mess on the floor. It is a dead, decapitated mosquito hawk. My guess is that at least on boy has already been up.

This afternoon Michael comes home and goes quietly to his room. It's busy all around me, inside the house and out, and I'm too distracted to wonder at his quiet movement passed me. He doesn't normally just slip by quietly. No, his presence is always obvious. Plus, by this time of day he is normally begging for food. A short while later he comes and asks if I can help organize some of his stuff. I know he wants organization, but it doesn't come easily to him. Unfortunately, I am busy with dinner preparations, so I tell him I'll give him a game plan but that I cannot work with him. First, I ask him to take his laundry out and remind him about another unfinished chore. Several minutes later I follow him into his room and take a look at the mess. He laughs because I've been tricked, and he says, "Don't look behind you!" Of course I do, and there, on his bed, is a long snake all coiled up. Now, understand that I hate snakes nearly as much as I hate Satan himself, and I have a very clear rule about bringing such things into the house. Without screaming, I tell him to get it out NOW and I mumble something about consequences. Is this really a funny joke? And what if it had slithered away under the furniture somewhere while he was taking out the laundry?

Later, and rather by accident, I found out that the snake was a freshly dead find. He thought I already knew. OK, so he didn't disobey. But a dead snake on his bed? Really? The next day he skinned it while I was out, and I'm hoping not to get a souvenir bookmark from it!

This is my life with boys. Someday, I'll probably want to remember some of the details. The stories might seem funnier to me then.

A couple weeks ago, Jacob motioned to me from the door one late afternoon. There was a possum hiding out in front of my car which was parked in the garage. Within moments, all the boys were armed with bats and hockey sticks, thrusting their implements fiercely at the possum. They tried to convince Olivia and I of their smart plan, that they would force it out. Well, instead it ran about, once lunging toward Olivia and me with its sharp, beastie teeth. Finally it ran out momentarily, only to re-enter by a different way. After much hoopla and loud boy-noises, the possum played dead by my laundry things, and pooped on the mat by the inside door. Nice, huh? The smell was horrid, and the boys thought it was the greatest thing ever. In fact, Andrew recorded the whole event, and watched the episode repeatedly that night.

I know a woman who raised 9 boys. She must have some fantastic stories.


Well, Jon is home now and we keep telling ourselves we should go to bed earlier. I did a quick check to see if I have recent pictures, but there are none I am allowed to post. I've not been very good at capturing the moments, either. 

Good night.



  1. Care to explain the part about the casting room at Children's Hospital, or was that in a previous post...? Having raised girls, I find the stories about the boys' antics delightful. They are chips off the old block!

  2. Hello Laurie! There are many gaps, I know. I am nearly busting at the seams with the things I wish I could share here, but legally I am very restricted since the new kids are still considered foster kids. We had one minor fall that resulted in a broken arm. When that was treated, we were referred to another specialist. After the first cast came off, two more were put in place to correct a structural problem (unrelated to an injury).

    I think of you often. Your life is a beautiful example to me. Love you.


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