24 Hrs

Yesterday, I turned around and was greeted by two small children, both with bags of frozen corn on their heads. Apparently, our wood stove had made things a little too warm and they needed to "cool off." Nevermind that the other reason they were warm had something to do with dumping all the sheets/blankets off a toddler mattress and propping it up into a slide position against the bedframe...slick side up. After chatting it up a bit, we were able to convince them that frozen corn is for owies but not necessarily to regulate body temperature. All was good again and I let the fire die out.

You haven't really lived until, on the way to the washer with a load of laundry and thinking about your work email, that you step on one of the many blankets lining the living room. Except this time, you get the feeling that you just stepped on something that was once the family goldfish and isn't anymore. Yes siree, corn thawed on the heads of small children really adapts a texture and temp of something once alive but now needing a rapid burial.

After I picked up all the dirty clothes, we continued on with our day. Eric was leaving for a predator hunt weekend (aka coyote calling competition) for the majority of Friday afternoon through Sunday and we needed something to keep ourselves busy and "out of trouble." So Gwen, Ari and myself got ourselves ready for a Family Fun Night at a local church offering the service to keep Moms that have stepped on "goldfish" in the last 24 sane.

We had an absolute blast with one exception. Many of the kids, including ours, play away hard in the basement with toys, bigger kids, littler kids, cartoons and fun couches and chairs. About the time I could hear an Ari crying like she split a lip coming around the corner, Gwen The Reporter was hot on the case. Surprisingly, there was no blood but all Ari could repeat was "VaKum" over and over. Reporter stated that Ari had had a little mishap that involved a normal cleaning implement. I kissed both children and explained to a disbelieving Ari that the vacuum wouldn't hurt her. Ten minutes later, the scene with still the same - Ari crying over the VaKum and Gwen desperately wanting me to go "check out the basement." So I went.

Framed at the bottom of the stairs against the far wall was Vacuum One, upright and in storage mode. But, by following the plugged in cord to the left, I also saw Vacuum Two. There was evidence of a whopper of a joy ride...with V2 used sideways as a horse and dragged as far as the cord would reach. That is, until her "stirrups" must have kicked the horse into full gear. The steed had been hastily abandoned nearly upside down and Reporter must have managed to shut it back off before skating back upstairs to tell us all about it. Needless to say we made our exit after both V1 and V2 were shoved into the back room. Ari wouldn't even look up and cried the entire time on the sofa about the episode, despite her sister loudly saying, "It's okay Ari. Mommy is putting it away."

So we left and drove home to a Daddy now home. Gwen usually decides she doesn't need to use the bathroom until we get exactly equal in distance from the Cenex gas station and the house. She LOVES the Cenex. The potty just her size, the cool sink and, you get the picture. Anyway, the Announcement was made just as we passed the Fairgrounds: "Mom, Mom, MOM...I have to go to the bathroom." I keep driving, ready for our usual banter. "I need to go to the gas station...can you go back?" I reply with," Gwen, we're almost home and the gas station is too far. Can you wait until home or do I need to pull over?"  Reporter mulled over the question..."Go pee outside?" (Note to Anne's family: we apologize for the vocab but this word has stuck despite trying to use more catchy and polite terms like "Tinkle" and "Number One." For the sake of communication with a 3yr old, we're using what works but will politely sub wording in this post from here on out). "Why yes," I replied, "You can get out and tinkle on a rock." Her Highness was quite offended. Not only was she NOT interested in creating any kind of new micro-climate, the thought of not using an actual "facility" was more than she could fathom. Not happening. Not even kind of. (Preface-a-little-late to city dwellers: Garfield County does not suffer from an abundance of people and has many pullouts well known and used as potty stops for small children. ) So, Highness sat extremely cross legged in her seat while Mommy drove as fast as safety handled for home, whereupon Highness totally forgot the need to go when she saw her Daddy.  Meanwhile Mommy stayed outside, trying to blow the flames out on the tires. (Note to Frank the Sheriff: We're sorry for breaking the law. We promise to always stop at Cenex first before attempting a trip home from town. For the record, we do obey all traffic signals and signs.)

And that my friends, is a partial sketch of the last day. Because if I told you everything, you'd wonder.