Will went into the water...

We are in Kansas City, land of my youth, visiting my brother. Today, we went to a really cool petting zoo/farmstead and for the bargain price of zero dollars and zero cents, you are in the door to warm and smelly goats, pigs, ponies, chickens and all that petting zoo loveliness. For the insanely reasonable price of $10 a person, you get a ride on a pony, a horse-drawn wagon ride, a chance to feed a baby goat with a bottle, a fishing pole rental and something else I don't remember, but I am sure is fabulous. Will rode the wagon and loved it. Will rode some pedal tractors and loved it. Will went into the farmhouse and flew down the slides and... you guessed it... he loved it. Then, it was fishing time.

We rented a cane pole and it took three people to bait the hook. Mike tried. I tried. Finally my mom schooled us on appropriate worming techniques. She channelled her dad on that one. Grandpa was a fisherman, and we reminisced about catching Blue Gill with him while Will threw out his line. First cast and his worm was gone instantly. Second worm... second cast... and Will caught his first fish. It was a Blue Gill and a fat one. He grinned as it flopped on the line. He posed for a picture and the fish twisted off the hook almost as soon as the picture was snapped. Mark dove for the fish to get it back in the water... Will freaked that the fish was flopping on the dock outstretched over the center of the fishing pond and within a nanosecond both the fish and Will went into the water. Splash. Silence. Panic.

Will had backed up to the rope railing and over the edge he went. Will can't swim. Will disappeared into the deep, murky water. I can still see his feet disappearing into the darkness. Will was gone.

Splash.

Uncle Mike was in the water before anyone else reacted. As Will's splash resettled back onto the top of the pond Mike uttered "oh shit" and went in. It took only seconds and Mike held Will above the surface for Mark to grab from his arms. I don't know if I moved. I don't think I breathed. But, I know when I saw Will break through the water into the air all I could do is scream "Get my baby! Get my baby!" When Will was safely and soggy in my arms I breathed and said "get my brother! Get my brother!" who was then struggling to pull himself from the depths and back onto the dock. I held Will and I cried. I don't know where I was going, but I picked him up and carried him to a seat and I sobbed. I don't cry. I don't sob. But, I felt like my life almost ended in that 30 second experience. I held him and I cried. I caressed his hair and I sobbed. I bawled like a baby as I ran through all of the "what could have beens." I type this out, hours later, and the tears spill out again at the thought of what tonight could have been. What I could be typing. How I would even be existing if that dark water swallowed him and didn't give him back? My world would have ended today. My world could have ended today. Will went into the water, and I felt like I was drowning, if only for a few seconds. I couldn't breathe.

I can hear Will in the bathtub right now. Uncle Mike, Daddy and Jack in the bathroom playing and talking and splashing. I hear a splash from down the hall and I think of the splash from this afternoon. And I cry.

Its All In The Name...

I realize that Bernie Madoff is scum. I recognize that he is the criminal and had hundreds of victims that will no longer be able to afford their bentley (and I don't mean my dog) and their kids may not be granted reality shows to depict how truly disgusting their lives are (yes Spencer Pratt, I mean you). Oh how they suffer. And, I am sure some people really are suffering. But, a little reality check here... would you really give your life savings to a man named Madoff? As in "Yes, I made off with your life savings?"

Let's pretend his name was Robin U. Blind. Would you let Robin have all your pennies that you worked (and by work, I mean either married into and/or inherited from someone who really did work at some point) so hard for? Maybe if his name was Mun E. Maker, I would understand the level of trust people put in this guy, but Madoff? Really???

There was once an arson suspect in Indiana named Burns. Uh duh. Guilty. Handing over millions to a guy named Madoff??? Hmmm.....

RIP Michael Jackson

I am not really a big Michael fan. I love the Jackson Five, and 80's Michael was pretty good. "We are the World" still rocks and I did an interpretive dance in 8th grade to "Black and White." I don't know if he molested kids, and I do think he was a kook. But, he was an icon. An icon of my childhood and my adulthood. Other people have had icons die. Farrah wasn't my generation. Neither was Paul Newman. But Michael was mine. I didn't understand you, but the talent hidden under the oxygen masks and behind plastic surgery gone wrong... to lose that is tragic. Only 50 years old.

Goodbye, Michael. I hope you find the peace in death that you certainly didn't get in life.

I am a mother...

Mark takes the kids to the park almost every evening after dinner. It gives me time to clean up, and if I am really lucky, time to sit on the couch for half a second and just breathe. Today, they went marching out the door while I stood at the sink rinsing our marinara spotted plates, and I heard a shriek. Seconds later in walks Mark carrying both boys because Will wiped out in our garage. He bellowed "mmmmaaaammmmaaa" while choking back sobs and gasping for breath. Rest assured, he is fine. He didn't even break the skin, which makes today a good day, because no skinned knees is a rarity in this house. But, it did take me aback for a moment because I realized... I am a mother.

That thought did occur to me twice before. Once when they pulled Will from my womb and a second time when it was Jack's turn to be yanked out. But, after that... not really. I know I have kids (don't call the men in white coats just yet), but on a daily basis I feel more babysitter-esque. Just feed, clothe, rinse, repeat. Three times daily. Keep them alive in between. Check. But, when Will's shrill "mama" echoed through the house, I realized it was directed at me. I was mama. I could heal him.

I don't walk on water, but man... its pretty close. To be the mother of a young child is the closest thing to God on this planet. Luckily there are lots of us, so it doesn't go to our heads. But, we are magical. He is hurt and my lips heal him. He wants a cuddle and time stands still in mama's arms. Someone is mad at him and my words repair the damage. And, when he is wrong... my arms absolve him of his sins. He cried tonight until I kissed his wounds and hallelujah, he is cured. I am a mother. Weird.

The thunder rolls....

In the immortal words of Garth Brooks... the thunder rolls... and the lightening strikes... another love goes dark on a sleepless niiiiiiight. In this case, the love going cold is that for my computer, and the dark would be the monitor that no longer glows with lovely cyber colors. That's right. Computer down. I tried 911 and they were no help. Will got inside it with his plastic drill and nothing. Mark the IT professional pronounced it, "time of death 9:43PM." Apparently he did everything he could, but it was just too far gone at that point. Single tear. By tomorrow, it will be lots of tears. One strike of lightening and BAM... my world is over. So, this is to let my readers (or reader depending on the day) know that I am gone now. My computer has been silenced. Some day, I will type again. Buh bye.

Shoo Fly - Obama Style

Shoo Fly

Lyrics

by President Obama

Shoo fly, don't bother me.

Shoo fly, don't bother me.

Shoo fly, don't bother me,

for I'll kill you then pardon me.

Watch me, watch me

Reflexes of a jungle cat

Watch me, watch me

tiny fly, you just went splat!

Please note that lyrics were not intended to offend the fly community or endorse the ruthless murder of insects throughout the world and apparently inside the White House, so please don't come after me, you idiots (ahem.... I mean Peta).

Striking Fear into the Hearts of Many...

Do you ever put the kids down for a nap, miraculously... both at the same time...and then sit down with a soda and your Tivoed Real World/Road Rules Challenge (hypothetically, of course... cuz who watches that stuff) only to hear the worst sound ever made. WAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

I find myself in a constant state of "what was that? Did you hear that? Which kid was that?" And, I don't mind saying, I am a little bit sick of it. I come downstairs with Will this morning and get him to the potty, get his breakfast, nuke my leftover pizza (the breakfast of champions), all the while listening. Thinking about turning on the monitor, but that just makes the WAAAAHHHH that much louder. I prefer the semi-muted WAHHHH of the natural cry as opposed to the magnified WAHHH of a speaker. As soon as my microwave signals me with the triple beep... I hear it. WAAAHHHHHH. Pizza abandoned. I am a trained Jack retriever. Just brush me occasionally and leave me a bowl of water and I am good to go.

Later, I will shower. (Yes, its 10:29am and I am still in my pjs... and truth be told, I have been in them since 4:30pm yesterday. Ha. Stay home moms rule). I will put Jack down for his morning nap soon and I will shower... all the while holding my shoulders up to my ears with the tension of knowing that any minute.... while shampooing.... while brushing teeth.... if I am lucky, I will make it all the way to make up and hair before the dreaded WAAAAAHHHHHHH starts again.

Even later, I will put them down for a nap (God willing, at the same time). And I will attempt to get things done. I will make phone calls, I will fold laundry, I will bake banana bread (no kidding... its really on my "to do" list today). But, I will do the whole list creeping around, afraid to speak above a whisper for fear that they will hear me. That I will get a premature WAAHHHHH or MAAAAMMMMMAAAA depending on the kid.

Latest, I will be in bed tonight. I will have the Jack TV on and I will sleep the restless sleep of a parent that knows the second she falls asleep the child will awaken. Times two, since there are two kids. I know that if I hit that blessed REM that others speak of but I don't quite recall, I will be ripped from it with a WAAAHHHH of epic proportion.

I remember a time when I lived alone and I would hear the windows creak with wind and be frightened at the noise. I would hear scratchings of bushes on my bedroom window and the house settling like footsteps and would jump wondering "what is that sound?" Only now do I realize what a terrifying sound really is. It doesn't make you wonder if there's someone in your house. You know there is someone in your house... and you know that the peace and quiet that you may experience at that moment is going to be short lived.... you just don't know when it will strike. WAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!