The Great Fall

My husband has been wanting to take our oldest son on a hike for ages. This Saturday they seized the opportunity to go to Mount Pleasant in the George Washington National Forest.

In the morning we bade a fond farewell to our intrepid hikers:

and went about the rest of our day:

Meanwhile:

That afternoon I received this text from my husband:

I went to pick up my son at the ER to spare him the inevitable, lengthy wait for a verdict and his dad’s eventual discharge. Back at home, I continued to check in with my husband over the next several hours by text:

When he was finally home with a diagnosis of a multiple fracture, he explained what happened…

After reaching the summit, they started to make their way back down toward the trail head. My husband’s boot caught on a rock hidden by fallen leaves, and all six feet three inches of him went crashing down. Unfortunately, they were still quite a distance away from the car.

“It was agonizing. Believe me, you would not want to walk two miles down a mountain on a broken ankle,” he told me that evening.

“Uh, yeah. As we all know, I wouldn’t want to walk two miles down a mountain, period,” I replied…”Why didn’t you call for help?”

“I didn’t want to cause a fuss. I would have been too embarrassed,” he said…”I hobbled along, and whenever anyone passed, I’d straighten up and pretend like nothing was wrong.”

He mimicked how he would give a cheery wave and say to every passer-by, “Beautiful day for a hike!”

I shook my head.

“Remember when your dad fell into a ravine on his hike and he got a gash on his forehead that required stitches?! And you were so upset with him, because instead of getting help, he just made his way back to his car and drove home for hours gushing blood from the gaping wound? Remember?! Remember how you scolded and scolded him for doing that?! You are your father’s son!

“There’s a HUGE difference!” my husband protested, “My dad hid behind rocks whenever he saw anyone on the trail!”

NO DIFFERENCE! You two are EXACTLY the same!”

“Well,” my husband conceded, grinning…”That’s the spirit that built the great British empire!”

It might explain the fall of the great British empire too…

This Boy

My dad was working in Korea when my first child, his first grandson, was born. He was finally able to meet him when we all converged in Minneapolis to celebrate the wedding of my brother and sister-in-law.

All weekend long, as soon as my dad would spot us, he would scoop his grandchild from my arms into his own.

“You look tired,” he’d say, “I’ll hold the baby for you.” Or: “He must be really heavy for you. Let me take him.”

Because I can be astonishingly dense, the first time I said, “I’m OK, Dad. I can hold him.”

“Nah,” he said gruffly, “You need a rest. I better hold him for you.”

No one else got a chance to hold the baby that weekend…

The words “I love you” have never once fallen from my father’s lips, but that weekend I heard those unspoken words when he gazed upon his grandson and said wistfully, “You won’t believe it, but in the blink of an eye, he’ll be grown up and out the door and you won’t even know how it happened.”

Here’s that baby fourteen Novembers ago…

I blinked and this happened:

Today my son was wearing a t-shirt my husband used to wear when I first met him. Today we measured him, and the boy who, I swear, was a baby only yesterday, is now 6 feet tall!

Oh, Time, our greatest friend and foe! May I remember that every minute of this precious life, even in the most challenging of times, is a gift of immeasurable value. May I not squander the days that I have with these beloved children under my own roof. And when they eventually do go out that door, may they fly back home now and then to my loving arms.

Adult Attention Deficit Disorder

Here’s what happens when you have adult ADD. You say goodbye to your husband as you head out the door to go to work. He replies with a smirk, “Bye! See you in 40 seconds.”

After a moment of confusion, you realize the impertinence behind this statement. He fully expects you to come back into the house (maybe several times) to fetch something that you’ve forgotten. And why shouldn’t he? After all, it’s happened every single day for the past seventeen years you’ve been married to him.

“How rude!” you say severely, but you chuckle nonetheless. Your mirth fades as you realize it’s really cold, and you haven’t even left the garage. You ponder your equally unappealing choices.

Do you:

A) Slink back into the house to fetch the coat that you’ve forgotten, but clearly need?

Or:

B) Do you preserve your pride, get in your car, and resign yourself to freezing your @$$ off all day long?

Now that my limbs have finally thawed, I can pound out my sad little tale…

Pumpkins!

We carved out our pumpkins tonight. My oldest son is going to take his in to carve at school tomorrow. For the first time ever, the two younger children carved their own pumpkins all by themselves.

Someone was totally grossed out by the pumpkin guts…

FINALLY! I’ve waited YEARS for someone else to have to deal with the pumpkin dismemberment!

My son’s pumpkin:

My daughter’s pumpkin:

My son thought his sister’s pumpkin resembled someone we know…

Happy Halloween!

The Queen Bee

Of the countless photos I’ve taken over the past fourteen years that we’ve been celebrating Halloween, I think these are my favorite:

I may like the next two even better…

“Sure, go ahead and dress me up in a tutu and tiara if you must,” my daughter seems to be saying in these photos, “I’m still going to be this girl!”

What they wore

It’s that time of the year again…

In years past, I’ve resorted to sneaking into my kids’ rooms to steal all their shorts and hide them. This year, inspired by my friend’s sage advice, I’m not going to pick this particular battle. I’m going to let those crazy kids wear whatever they want to school, even if it means winter coats over shorts:

Believe me, I’ve got bigger fish to fry…

The Soccer Edition

Fall weekends for my family are all about soccer, soccer, and more soccer…

This one made me laugh…

Our girl played her game this weekend as she always does – fearlessly. My son chuckled, “She’s all, ‘Come at me, bruh.'”

Dirty knees. Clean sheet.

We are definitely indoor cats

In my last post, I shared some photos from a walk we took around the lake in our neighborhood. Within minutes of posting, I received the following email from my sister:

The funny thing is…as soon as my daughter flopped down in the grass, that is EXACTLY what I was thinking. TICKS! OMG, TICKS! She’s going to get Lyme Disease!!!

My sister and I are indoor kitties, as is my second son. As for my oldest and youngest children, they are most definitely outdoor cats.

This caused all kinds of problems when the children were younger and could only go outside if I took them there. Even before they could talk, the oldest and youngest would make their desire to go out perfectly clear. They would bring their sneakers or sandals to me, and shake them in rage and frustration in my face until I got it into my thick skull that it was time to let them out.

My second son, like my sister and me, can’t deal with the bugs and hates to be too hot or too cold. Back when the children were little and needed constant supervision, meeting everyone’s needs was a challenge…

 

 

Fabulous Fall

It’s my favorite season…