Skip to main content

Alive and Well...Because of Me

I'm pretty good at keeping things alive.  Unless it's pets or plants, those I tend to kill.  Nobody told me you can over-clean a Beta fish's bowl.  Poor little Brown Trout.  But aside from a few other short lived pets and every single house plant, I've done alright.  

Our kids are all breathing because of me.  At least in part.  Sure, it takes two to make a human, but I grew them, so I'm taking a little more than half the credit.  Sometimes I have to remind them that I gave them life, and what's the Cosby Show  line? "I brought you into this world, and I can take you out of it!"  I jest.  But somedays....  

Ross is breathing because of me too.  Literally.  I saved his life.  He owes me big time.  

I haven't completely cashed in on that one yet.  I'm saving it for something good.  Although...."Babies are crying.  Somebody needs to check on them.  Remember that time I saved your life?".....How have I not used that?!  Stupid.  Stupid.  Stupid.

I saved his life almost ten years ago.  I'm pretty much his hero.  He just forgets a lot, and I have to remind him.  It's okay, I don't mind reminding him as often as I need to.  

Ross eats fast and doesn't always chew well.  I've never taken food away from him, so I'm not sure what the rush is...  "Choo, choo, choo!" is my mantra at the dinner table, and it isn't meant for the kids.  He's a good sport though.  

Anyway, the story is that Ross didn't chew his last bite of steak at a fancy restaurant.  We were with a group of his teacher friends, and when he gave the, "Oh, shoot, I'm actually choking" signal.  They let me take care of it.  Apparently, it's part of the wifely duties.  Maybe, maybe somebody else would have intervened, but they didn't.   

Turns out, the abdominal thrust is very effective.  I'm glad because I like him.  Unfortunately, the abdominal thrust also makes you barf.  Luckily, the fancy restaurant had outdoor seating and a balcony.  I'll never know how the people below fared, but Ross lived.  

Long story short - now he owes me.    

I wonder if that comes with interest?    

I'm not looking for anything fancy.  Just my own room.  A hidden room.  A room the kids don't know about that's well stocked with lots of snacks and ice cream.  Don't judge me.  A girl can dream.  

  

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Tough Love

 We were on our way home from a birthday party not long ago, and Fischer began complaining from the backseat that one of the kids had tripped him and laughed about it.   Ross looked at him in the rearview mirror and responded, "Life's hard, Buddy.  You're going to have to toughen up."  To which his brother responded, "Yeah.  You have no idea.  Just wait until you're eight."  At that, they both sat back in their booster seats and contemplated their life situation for the remainder of the drive home.    Evidently, life is smooth sailing in those early single digits, but once you reach the ripe old age of, "I can mostly tie my own shoes and reach the kitchen faucet," it's all hard knocks and rough living.   I know this must be true because Sawyer also told his aunt the other day, "It's time to get on it and get myself a car.  I'm going to get a Cord Tacoma."  I think what he wanted to say, but didn't have the words  was,

All I Want For Christmas...

  Christmas time is such a fun season.  I love focusing on the birth of Jesus with the kids and recognizing the true reason for celebrating.  I also relish the magical part of the season that gives so much life to our kids' imaginations and innocents.  They are always precious, but I feel it even more so this time of year.   Even our oldest hasn't completely given up on Santa, although he has a lot more questions having been around classmates and friends who coolly deny the existence of Santa or Christmas magic.  We know it can't last forever, but I'm going to milk it for at least one more season.  He is still more or less on board.  I think he wants it to be real, so he doesn't dig too deep.  Consequently, he and his siblings were all excited for a trip to meet Santa and Mrs. Claus last weekend.  I was excited too.  I love their reactions, and last year Carter was too sick to go, so this was her first opportunity to meet Santa face to face.   The trip didn't di

Christmas Miracle

 For better or worse, I don't have a lot of pride.  I used to have some, but after the third and fourth child, what little I had vanished.  I'd like to be put together.  I would like my kids to be put together.  I have come to terms with the fact that, 99% of the time, that's not going to happen.  When we leave the house, I consider it a win if everybody has on an appropriate amount of clothing and two shoes that match.   The first time we visited the orthodontist in preparation for Sawyer's braces, I showed up with four kids in dirty play clothes and one child with mismatched shoes.  It just so happens that the orthodontist's wife is the mom of some of my former students, and she was working that day.  Luckily, I also hadn't brushed anyone's hair before we left the house, so we made quite an impression.  I've been trying to raise the bar ever since, but I seem to keep failing.  The next appointment we came straight from the barn and smelled like it, but