Officer?

I was minding my own business, driving home today, coming down a long sloping hill, rounding a corner, slowing down for the stop at the intersection with a busy road when I saw something that made my heart do flip-flops.

There was a police car, parked at an odd angle at the bottom of the hill, still partly in the road. An officer stood beside the car, looking a little... uncomfortable... or something.

What's going on here, I thought, was there an accident? Why isn't he directing traffic or something instead of just standing there? Yes, I'm terribly impatient on the road. I think there should be Public Service Announcements on the tv instead of commercials so we can remind everyone how to drive since it's obviously been a LOOOONG time since Driver's Ed for some people.

I slowed the car down to a crawl, trying to determine where I was supposed to go and whether or not I was about to get detoured 7 miles out and around to the next road that leads home.

And then I saw him.

Another man, dressed in dark clothes, POINTING something at the officer! He was backing slowly away from the officer, disappearing behind some bushes in the ditch.

Oh, Lord, it's a BAD GUY! Good grief, is he about to shoot the officer?! I glanced back at the officer, who was reaching down toward his hip.

Oh my goodness!!! He IS going to shoot him!!! Ahh!!! What do I do?! Should I run over the bad guy?! I have new tires, I'm certain I could go down through the ditch and run him over before he knew what happened. Wait. I have kids in the car. Bad plan. Bad plan! Good mothers do not take their children into the cross-fire of a police officer/bad guy shoot out! Okay. Well, I think I'll just stop the car right here in the middle of the road. And then if the cop gets shot I can call 911 and be a good witness.

Now what was that guy wearing again? Well, at least I know where I am. That's a start. And the officer has brown hair. Hmm.. I don't think the prosecution is going to be happy with my limited knowledge.

Wait. I have a dead cell phone. This won't work! Why am I carrying around a dead cell phone?! Sheesh!!! Time to get a car charger already!!

Okay. New plan. If the bad guy shoots the cop, I'll just run over the bad guy! There! Problem solved. Neutralize the bad guy. That's what you're supposed to do, right?

So, maybe I've been watching too many cop shows lately on Netflix. Gotta love those Netflix. No late fees.. no hassle... you can watch a whole season in a weekend... You know, maybe that whole marathon cop show thing is a little tiny bit overkill. Between that and facebook I keep having these dreams where I'm escaping from desperately dangerous situations or apprehending the perps with my partner officer who just happens to be someone I went to grade school with and haven't seen in 20 some years. Hmm...

Wait. What is the officer doing NOW?! He's looking at me. Why is he looking at me? HELLO! YOU HAVE A BAD GUY WITH A GUN ON YOU!! Look that way! Maybe I'll point. Or not. That might look like I have a gun, too, and that would really be bad.

Huh. Is his hand on his holster... or on his HIP? Oh. Oh wait, now he's WAVING at me. Great. Now he's been taken hostage and he's doing what the bad guy is telling him and luring us down the hill so we can be hostages, too.

Bad move. Me and my kids, HOSTAGES?! Not on your life! Sorry, Mr. Officer, but now I'm going to have to run you over, too.

As the officer continued to wave at me, trying to motion me down the hill and onto the other road, the bad guy stepped forward from behind the bushes to reveal his gun..er... Camera?


Oh.

My bad.

Guess I'll just mosey on down the hill now.

Maybe I'll write a letter to the Police Station suggesting they find more appropriate places to take pictures of their newly promoted officers. Really. Give a girl a heart attack, whydon'tcha?

Blah Blah Blah TRAILER!!

I spoke too soon.

I was standing in the kitchen, preparing dinner, when the front door flung open and in ran my son.

"EMMY blah blah blah BLAH!!!" He said excitedly as he hopped from one foot to another next to the dining room table.

"What?" I glanced up from the cutting board, knife poised to chop that onion, thinking to myself, why is that boy always mumbling so much? I really have so much to do...

"Blah blah blah blah TRAILER!!!" He said, a little louder this time. Trailer. Yes. That trailer is an eyesore, sitting there parallel to our driveway next to the shop. I really need to ask my hubby to move that thing soon. Where was I?

"Excuse me, son?!" Weird. Maybe I really am going deaf. I shouldn't have such a hard time understanding him. Concentrate, Lisa, concentrate!

"Moooom!!", he moaned as his shoulders slumped. "Blah blah blah THE BLAH!!!"

I put the knife down as I began to realize that something was definitely wrong here. Where is my brain?! Do I need to clean my ears out? EARTH TO LISA!!!

"Okay, one more time, Josh, slowly and clearly."

"Blah PEED blah blah BLAH!!!! he said, his little shoulders slumping down as he looked in my face for some sort of recognition.

Nothing. Blank. "DOES NOT COMPUTE. DOES NOT COMPUTE." My brain kept telling me.

I found myself sitting down, hands over my face...whoa, what am I doing? I just had a knife in my hands, where'd it go?!..., willing my brain to translate what my kid said and hoping that the vigorous shaking of the head would drive the fog away.

Reaching out, I drew him to me and asked, very slowly, very carefully, if this is what he said:

"Emmy. Peed. Off. Of. The. Trailer."

He solemnly nodded his head and ran back outside.

Goodlorda'mightywhatkindachildamIRAISING?!?!?!

I shot outside in time to see that he was indeed telling the truth. There she stood, nekkid from the waist down, in broad daylight, indeed quite proud of herself for having taken off her pull-up, and peed from the very top of the gooseneck onto the ground below her. I glanced around to see if any neighbors were craning their necks to see what the fuss was about before quickly grabbing her down off the trailer and sending her inside.

Apparently I need to add this clause to our little agreement: ...which activity must take place within the confines of the toilet bowl...

As in: You will receive a star on the calendar for every day you are able to complete without peeing or pooping in your unders, which activity must take place within the confines of toilet bowl within an appropriate facility (i.e. our bathroom, grandma's bathroom, a store/gas station bathroom) beginning at 5pm and ending at 4:59pm the following day, after which accumulation of 20 stars occurs to gain access to the Diego Rescue Pack obtained by me for such purpose.

Judging by how terribly proud she was of herself for her accomplishment, I don't really think my speech or the delineation of the clauses within will make a whole lot of difference to her. But at least I did eventually get my brain to work.

Momentarily.

Princess Emmy

I thought girls were supposed to be "easier" to potty train than boys. Whomever said that should have lived with US for the past year. *sigh*

Last week Emmy earned the princess dress and tiara that she picked out three weeks ago! She received a smiley face on each calendar day that she didn't have any potty training "issues". when she got to 20 Smileys, she got to be a princess!! I'm so proud of her for trying so hard and sticking to her goal day after day. It has been a long, difficult, messy road with her! And that is ALL I'm going to say about it. There have been so many days of trying anything and everything I can THINK of with her, and days when it really seemed like pulling my hair out was a perfectly reasonable reaction to the situation.

Once, on a particularly trying day in which it took an hour or so of searching around her room for where the stench was coming from and finding it in the second drawer of her dresser, I nearly lost my christianity. I fled from the room and down the stairs, to be faced with three wide-eyed children wondering what I was about to do and all I COULD do was sink to my knees and pray the most basic "Lord give me the strength not to scream at/spank excessively/sell my children right now" out loud with my eyes squeezed shut and my hands clasped tightly in front of me.

In unison my heathen little children LAUGHED. Apparently this was comical to them. Especially the offending one. *sigh* Well then. Glad I could add some humor to YOUR day! I couldn't help but feel the aggravation crack and crumble inside my heart until I finally gave in and laughed along with them. When I was calm again, I cleaned up the mess, and gave a nice long time out to miss Emmy.

And we all lived to see another day.

Now Emmy is working toward night time dryness for another new surprise! And then maybe I can finally start focusing on getting #3 potty trained.

*SIGH*

In the Days of Potatoes

*joshua and the Big Tater of '05


The first time I gleaned potatoes I was 8 months pregnant with our first child. There I was, following the digger, in the fading light of a crisp fall night, waddling down the row of furrowed dirt picking up every single cute, tiny potato I saw left behind. I have to laugh about the memory of that, thinking of how I pick up potatoes now; the little ones (otherwise known 'round here as 'soup potatoes') I don't look at twice. They're not worth the time to pick up or the time it takes to peel each tiny nook and cranny! Now I know that if I want to be able to keep them without spoiling, I'd better check to see if they've been sliced by the digger or otherwise damaged.

Back then, though, oh, the good memories! The pure joy in seeing all the wealth of free potatoes, laying there in the dirt, waiting for me to pick them up, take them home, and eat them! I thought of my grandma with her sturdy, hard working German blood flowing through her veins, and knew she'd be proud of me if she could see me in all of my bigger-than-a-house pregnant glory, carrying a 5 pound bucket and squatting down to pick up each and every golf-ball size potato! Now the kids go with us and get to pick up all the "soup potatoes" while the rest of us eye each one critically and sort through the kids' batch later.

I love the smell of the dirt, the silence of the fields, the sound of the potatoes being dumped in the big boxes and bins in the back of the truck. It is one of the things I look forward to most this time of year. We go through hundreds of pounds of potatoes each winter, never in want of food for abundance of potatoes. In the very hardest of times for us, there is always potatoes. What a blessing!!

Now they are simply a staple food for us and there is almost always a big pot of boiled potatoes in the fridge waiting to be chopped up and broiled, baked, or fried in a dozen different ways. We bake potatoes in the coals of our fire and make mashed potatoes on a regular basis. I have to say, we feel very blessed and thankful to have such a great resource available to us.