Last night I realized I hadn’t drank any water yesterday. I filled my 32 hospital jug and drank it. All. At 11:30pm. Bad plan. If you visit my home, kindly ignore the path beaten from the bedroom to the bathroom. I’ve been pregnant for all but three months of life here. It’s a well worn path.
All five kids were in the tub last night – yes, they still fit, but only barely. They were brushing their teeth – because we work on a fine timeline on Saturday nights (and every other night…). Ruby got an evil look in her eye, stood up, and spit directly onto Liberty’s head. Liberty sat there, shocked, then burst out laughing. The rest of the night was finished in fits of giggles. Ruby’s as fiery as they come.
I was mowing the other day, rain was threatening, thunder booming, and I finished – just in time. Then I realized my cell phone had fallen out of my pocket. Hoping I’d lost it in a mowed patch and not run over it, the kids and I went on a hunt through our rather large lawn. Eden found it, whole and unharmed, just as huge raindrops began to fall. We were about to head for the house when a collie, furrier than I’d ever seen, came rambling over, wanting to be pet. Sterling and Ruby were freaking out about the strange dog, Brady was losing it trying to defend her territory to a dog that weights ten times as much as she does, and the collie was just begging to be pet. We checked the dog’s collar, found no tags, and decided to head for the house before we were drenched.
We got into the house – and so did the fluffy white collie. Sterling was howling, thinking the house was his escape from the strange dog, Ruby was hollering that the dog had followed her in, Brady barking like she owned the place and didn’t want company and the dog realized what a crazy kitchen she’d just wandered into – and she didn’t want to leave. Yep, instead of running back out the way she’d come like any sane dog should have done, she headed for the corner, behind the table, under the bench, and hunkered down. And I laughed. Laughed until I cried. Liberty and Eden together pulled and pushed to get the collie back to the door, finally successful. But they couldn’t get back inside without the persistent dog following them back in. Finally they were inside, the dog outside, Sterling calmed down, we swept up the grassy mess, and life went back to normal – just slightly less chaotic than the scene above.
That night, when Blaine got home from work, Ruby told the tale, in short form. “But Momma didn’t let the dog into the house. She made her get out.” I’m so glad, in all the hilariousness of it all, that I came out heroic. And I couldn’t help but wonder if Liberty’s reaction in the tub had anything to do with my reaction to the dog. Because if it did, it would do me well – and my children as a result – to laugh in the stressful moments instead of getting upset. It sure was a lot more fun.