First, let me apologize for the ad for suede shoes showing up on my blog posts via Facebook.  I do not know how it got there and I am trying to figure out how to get rid of it.  (The Dragon strikes again!!!!)  I am open to suggestions! 

I also apologize for missing a few weeks.  I always thought I would gain freedom when my kids grow up.  Instead I seem to be in even more demand!  It's okay, I am not complaining but sometimes it means I cannot get to things like my blog.  Really can't complain since they are my source of topics!

I think that one of the most frightening things that a mother goes through as she raises her child is when she can't find the child.  The little buggers are very clever at scaring their mothers grey!

Do you remember the days you used to go shopping for yourself.   You were able to shop luxuriantly, browsing at clothes, maybe trying on dozens of outfits, slowly selecting shoes and admiring them in the mirror, wondering if they make your legs look more attractive.  You may even have wandered through stores, simply looking and even pausing to have a glass of wine and lunch with a friend. 

Do you remember going on vacations before you had children?  Lounging on the beach, sightseeing, reading a book, fancy dinners at fancy restaurants. 

Then you had children . . . . shopping expeditions were quick and painful.  There was always someone screaming.  Maybe it was your child, probably it was you.  They touched everything they passed by, pulling clothes off the rack while the stroller brushed by.  You didn't dare give them something to eat to keep them occupied because you knew that there would be a streak of whatever that was on everything you passed.  They would cry and scream to get out of the stroller.  There were always false promises to behave and stay nearby.  You would finally relent and let them out.  They were clever about it too.  They stayed nearby just long enough so that you would let your guard down.  And then . . . gone!  Panic ensues.  Your heart starts pounding and you immediately know that you are the worst mother ever.  While you were selfishly shopping, your child was kidnapped.  And in the middle of nearly screaming and fainting, you suddenly notice the clothing rack wiggling and giggling.  Yes, your child has decided to hide within the clothing and play hide and seek. 

Or, you take your beautiful children to the water park.  The whole family, your brother's family of three children and you and six of your children are "enjoying" the pool.  Your six year old is climbing across a pool of water on pretend icebergs while hanging on to a rope, when your brother looks at you and says, "I didn't know Pook could swim."  But he can't.  Hmm that's a problem as he is climbing across water that is at least six feet deep.  You try to convince yourself not to panic, and race to the pool to remove your son.  When you have finally not relaxed enough, you decide to gather up the gang and leave the water.  You brilliantly hang on to whatever parenting skills you have left and instruct your children to clean up after themselves and put their towels in the nearby bin.  This is the first time that you realize that the Blonde is directionally challenged and it is a disability that will haunt her forever.  She walks away to put her towel in the "dirty" hamper.  Time for a head count.  Where's the Blonde.  Again, you try to convince yourself not to panic but your sister in law loses control and is convinced the Blonde has been abducted.  She finds someone in authority and the park goes on lockdown.  Minutes later the Blonde comes walking over with a smile while chatting with a very handsome blonde lifeguard.  You and your sister in law find a place to get a glass of wine!

We do manage to survive these events don't we?  We even manage to chuckle a little when to teach them a lesson, we hide from them and smile (just a little) when we see their panic.  Gotcha!!!  I thank God every day for the blessing of the Guardian Angels who have been assigned to watch over my children.  I also apologize frequently for the endless work that our Guardian Angels do.   Have a blessed and safe week.

History really does repeat itself.  The characters in the story may change, but it happens over and over again.

At age 55, I finally began wearing dry clean clothes.  Up until that point, I had kids throwing up on me, spilling their milk, hugging me with greasy or food covered hands.  It was cheaper and safer just to wear clothes that were wash and dry.

About 25 years ago, Doc's father passed away.  We had five children at the time.  Mommy was 11 at the time and Pook was only a few months old.  That leaves the others ranging from 3 to 9.  First of all, imagine getting five small children dressed in their Sunday best for the funeral.  We literally put them in the van in pajamas, fed them the breakfast of champions - donuts, wiped them up and got them dressed in the van.  The kids looked adorable.  I was disheveled and wrinkled, but as long as the kids looked great....  God bless them, the kids' Godparents came all the way from Chicago to be supportive of Doc and our family.  Believe me the extra hands were more than appreciated.  Their Godmother, "Kuma" was amazing at keeping them quiet and occupied.  As she held the Blonde during the funeral service, the Blonde fell asleep.  Halfway through the service, I heard a gasp behind me.  "Kuma" had a shocked look on her face and mouthed to me that the Blonde had peed all over her.  The Blonde's beautiful dress had been arrayed around her and stayed dry.  Being the wonderful mother that I am (as described above with the feeding of donuts) I had extra underwear for the Blonde.  "Kuma" did not fair so well.  Her beautiful skirt was more than just a little wet.  Being the trooper that she is and the fact that it was a windy day, she simply went outside and let mother nature dry her off.

Now flash forward to 2018.  I took my grandchildren with me to a Vesper service recently on a Saturday evening.  My grandson fell asleep in the car on the way to church.  On this rare occasion, he stayed asleep  when I got him out of the car and into church.  I stood in the back of the church with him in my arms.  I am often back to wearing washable clothes as the kids are with me frequently so while I had jeans on, it was a cold wintery day and I was wearing my good winter coat.  Even though he is only three and a half, he gets a little heavy when asleep.  I tried to shift my position and suddenly my hand was soaking wet.  Yes, my grandson had peed all over me, my new sweater and my good winter coat, not to mention himself.  I looked down to notice a puddle on the floor in front of me.  Doc and the Blonde (isn't it appropriate that she was present?!) ran to get paper towels to sop up the mess on the floor.  Nothing like making sure EVERYONE knows there is a problem.  I looked at a friend standing next to me and simply said, "You don't think anyone thinks I made the mess, do you?"

Sometimes, all you can do is smile.  I do believe God allows us to experience these little snafus so that we remember to be humble.  Things happen.  You smile and make the best of a wet situation!  Please have a blessed week.  and keep smiling through it all.