Mom Power

Tomorrow morning I head out with five other moms on a "moms camping trip."  Moms...and kids.  Last year was our first time going and my kids have been talking about it ever since.  They are besides themselves with excitement!  The other night I asked them what they remember the most from last year.  I waited for answers like "playing at the beach" or "sleeping in a tent."  Sophie answered, "Getting juice boxes out of the cooler."  Ok.

I, however, am excited for different reasons.  I'm excited about being in nature.  About setting up our tent.  About hiking.  About cooking over an open fire.  Making coffee.  Taking kids through the woods to the bathroom in the middle of the night (ok, I'm not really excited about that one).  And I love showing my kids that women can do all of this on our own.

I want my kids to know that women are strong.  That women are smart.  That it's good to be independent.  I love that our kids will see us moms discussing, planning, problem-solving, and fixing.  We'll have to cooperate, communicate and compromise.  We'll laugh.  Maybe cry.  Probably yell a little bit.  But mostly, we'll laugh. 

So, I'll be gone for the rest of the week.  (That's the other thing I love about camping.  No computer.  No television.)  I'm sure there will be a recap when I return.  Last year I came back with a better understanding of my fear of edges.  Maybe this year I will learn more about my fear of large groups of children.

Gone Flossing

I'm out of floss.  I never used to floss.  Not never, but not often.  I would floss everyday.  For two days.  And then not again for a week.  Or a month.  Or just before my next dentist appointment.

But then my hot dentist told me that I had a cavity.  I'm not sure if you've ever had a cavity filled (because I hadn't), but it sucks.  It hurts.  And it's uncomfortable.  And you have to worry about the hot dentist seeing your nose hairs.  And it's hard to feel attractive when the dentist and his assistant have both hands (that's four total) and a drill in your mouth. 

So after that I started flossing every day.  And at my last check up, a few weeks ago, my hot dentist said I had beautiful teeth!  And if you read my Model Dentist post, then you know that's all I ever really wanted.  Success!

But now I'm out of floss.  I've never actually run out of floss before.  And knowing myself as I do, if I don't get some soon I'll stop flossing.  And get more cavities.  And I'll have to see my hot dentist more often. 

Any suggestions on how to look casual and flirty while having dental work done?

Follow Through

I'm pretty good at doing laundry, if I do say so myself.  I get the clothes sorted. In the washer. Moved to the dryer.  Into the basket.  And folded.  But that's where it ends.  I'm good at doing the laundry, but I'm not very good at putting it away.

It's the same with the dishes.  I'm fine loading the dishwasher.  And, oddly, I actually enjoy washing up dishes in my sink.  And putting them in the drying rack.  And then leaving them there. For days.

Does this say something about me?  That I don't have follow through?  I'm trying to think about other aspects of my life.  Other examples I could use.  But I honestly can't think of anything else that I do in a day besides half-doing the laundry and dishes.  And raising my kids.  And so far I haven't pooped out on doing that.  But they're young.  There's still time.  (Just kidding, probably.)

Un-famous

My kids are making a movie today (I'm the Horrible Witch who gets shot in the face).  They are creating costumes and writing a script.  My husband has unknowingly agreed to video this award-winning film when he gets home from work this evening.

All of this has reminded me of a time my friend and I decided to make a movie.  My friend was named Allison and she befriended me the moment I showed up in her 4th grade class as "the new girl."  I soon learned why she was so quick to be my friend.  She was moody and bossy and, thankfully, moved away later that year.  But that move was my first experience at having to make new friends and I was thrilled that someone wanted to hang out with me.

So, one day in her backyard, we started coming up with a storyline.  Something about two lost girls.  I don't remember exactly what the story was, but here's what I do remember.  I remember thinking it was so much fun.  The pretending.  The planning.  And then she said, "My dad says this movie could make us famous!"  She said this with excitement.  A gleam in her eyes.  She wanted to be famous!  But I was terrified.

The fun was gone.  The movie had lost it's charm and I didn't want to do it anymore.  The thought of being famous had ruined it for me.

This memory pretty much sums me up.  I'm not like my brother, the punk rocker turned pastor who is completely at ease in front of a crowd.  Or my sister, an actress who has spent her entire adulthood in front of cameras.  Once the pressure is on, I'm turned off.  So, I'm not going to lie.  I might not give this current role my all.  Although, I probably could handle being type-cast as a horrible witch my entire acting career.

Murder at Rabbit Lake

Okay, so there wasn't really a murder at Rabbit Lake. At least not to my knowledge. But there was a brief period of time when my father and I thought there may have been.

Every once in a while my dad and I would take a weekend and go up to the lake just the two of us. It was on one of these weekends that we uncovered a mystery. Sort of. Very soon after arriving we hopped in the boat and made our way around the lake. Not too far into our cruise we noticed a boat floating in the weeds. We watched it for a minute. There may have been a "if this boats a-rocking..." joke made. We went on our way.

The next day we took our boat out again. Sure enough, the other boat was still there. Our interest was piqued. It was quite far into the reeds so we couldn't get close enough to get a good look. We started coming up with many scenarios, but the one that seemed the most plausible, or the most intriguing, was that a murder had been committed.

We started coming up with the details. I'm not going to give anything away (we may write a book someday!), but we certainly got into it. We went into town one morning for lunch and a moment after the server walked away my dad said, "She's definitely a suspect." Later my dad had to take the lawn mower in to be fixed. He came back and described the place he'd gone. It had old parts hanging on the wall and several mowers, snow blowers and other things scattered about the yard. "It's a perfect location for the initial argument," he declared. We'd be sitting around the fire and one of us would suddenly blurt out a new idea or a plan for what had happened next. We took the boat out one more time just to see if the abandoned boat was still there. It was.

Pretty soon our weekend was coming to an end. We had a lot of speculation, but we didn't have any answers. We had to know. My dad convinced me to go with him in the canoe. I hate riding in a canoe, but this was our weekend and I wanted to be a good sport. Plus, I was just as curious as he was.

We paddled out of our bay. The boat was in our sights. We were slowly making our way over, when a man came walking down his dock. My dad is a friendly guy and my parent's had just build their lakehouse, so he whispered that we should stop so he could introduce himself. "And he could be a suspect," my dad added.

We pulled up next to the dock and my dad reached out his hand as he said his name and explained that he had just built out on the point. The man leaned down to shake my dad's hand. It was early and the lake was still very quiet. I think by way of explanation the man said, "I'm just out here waiting for a friend of mine to come around from the public access." We were about to share with him why we were out on the lake so early when he added, "He's going to pull my boat out of the reeds." He pointed to the boat, our boat. "It blew off the lift a few days ago."

So, mystery solved. And no murder, to boot. But my dad and I will always remember that weekend. And every once in a while one of us will see another potential suspect.

A Letter to my Husband

Dear Wade,
Please put the Pam Cooking Spray back on the correct shelf when you are done using it.  It has always gone on the bottom shelf.  With the other cooking-type oils and such.  Always.  It has never gone on the top shelf.  With the popcorn popper.  Never.

I realize the shelves are fairly close together.  And if you squeeze it into the right front corner of the top shelf, letting it precariously hang over the edge, ready to fall on me as I prepare to make my morning eggs, it does fit there.  But on the bottom shelf, where it belongs, there is plenty of room for it to stand, uncrowded, and amongst it's friends Extra Virgin Olive Oil and Red Wine Vinegar.

I think we'd all be a little bit happier if the Pam Cooking Spray was put back on the correct shelf when you are done using it.

Your loving wife,
Sara

Bird Dog

Yesterday my dog killed a bird.  I know some dogs are hunters, but my dog isn't.  She's more of a barker.  Or a lie-arounder.  But, for some reason, yesterday she found her killer instinct.

It's finally gotten nice outside.  Summer finally feels like summer.  And, as such, I make the dog stay out all day.  The rest of the year, as I sweep the kitchen floor or vacuum the family room, she follows behind me, shedding.  Negating the work that I'm doing as I'm doing it.  But when I clean in the summer I get a full 2 minutes to enjoy the clean-ness before my kids undo it all.  However, this summer, until this week, at least, it's been rainy and muddy and I haven't been able to leave my dog outside for hours at a time.

But this week the dog has been able to spend her days lounging under the patio set.  We have a bit of a bird sanctuary in our backyard and this surprises me since we also have a 50 lb. black lab.  But the kids made birdhouses for Father's Day and I bought a bird bath earlier this spring.  We've had a bird feeder out back for years, but this summer I can't seem to keep enough bird seed in it (and it's not squirrels...they have never been able to get into the feeder we have).  So, ten feet from where the dog is half passed out in the shade, birds are flying.  Everywhere.  Robins and cardinals.  Sparrows and mourning doves.  Little black and white birds.  Chubby browns ones.

So yesterday, as the kids were playing, the birds were flitting, and the dog was lounging, I heard a scuffle and the the kids started yelling.  They yell a lot, so this wasn't anything that grabbed my attention right away, but then I realized they were yelling "Bad dog!  You're a bad dog!  Stop it, bad dog!"  Either the dog was quick enough or the bird was slow enough (my guess is the latter), but somehow there was a bird in Sadie's mouth.  My yelling children were able to get Sadie to drop the bird by the time I got to them, but the poor little thing was scared to death and hopped into a bush.  I put the dog in the house and we kept an eye on it for a while, and eventually I swear I saw it fly out.  I really thought it had recovered from it's paralyzing fear and flown away.  We checked underneath the bush and didn't see it anywhere.  I let the dog back out.


Sadie ran over to the bush and sniffed around a bit and then walked away.  I turned to the kids and said "See, the little birdie wasn't hurt after all.  It was just scared and now it's gone."  The second that I finished my little pep talk there was another scuffle.  And a dead bird on the patio.  I looked at the kids and said, "I'll get the shovel."