Crashing Ladies' Night....

First of all, he crashed ladies night.

Ladies night is the weekly evening to which a few chosen ladies are invited to attend with one minor prerequisite:
you must engage in some form of exercise prior to bellying up to the bar for a beer.  Bathing kids does not count.

My father in law insisted that he'd cycled earlier in the day.
So, we let him in for a pint.

It turns out that this non-lady shared the most compelling story of ladies night.

Not more than a day earlier he intercepted a very lost elderly woman on the side of the road near his office.  She waved him down in somewhat of a panic.  He noticed that she was a bit flustered so he encouraged her to pull aside, park the car, and rest for a bit under his watch.

She was lost.

She was very, very lost.

And, one of the first things she told my father in law is that she needed to use the restroom.  (That made my heart hurt a bit when I heard it the first time).

Once her car was parked, he escorted her across the street to his office and provided her with a clean bathroom, a cold cup of water and, most importantly, compassion.

To make a shorter story of a longer story, he drove her home in her own car (followed by his co-worker so they could get back to their office) and it was a 40 mile (one-way) excursion.  Perhaps, the most incredible part of the story is that - while she was intercepted 40 miles from her home... she actually had set out to travel only a few miles from the senior center and back to her home - in her home town.  Somehow she took many wrong turns and ended up in my father in law's shadow.

Gosh, I thought, as I listened to the details. 

How very sad, I thought.  Emah asked, "Did she know who she was?"

On the other hand I couldn't help but think
how perfect that my father in law was the one to intercept her.

In my mind, there could not be a more understanding, compassionate, caring, and attentive person for this elderly lady to have found.   It was a meeting meant to happen.

And so,  he can crash ladies night as often as he'd like -
if it means he'll come around armed with stories that make us pause, reflect, and regard him as an even more kind, incredible and compassionate man than we had the day before.

Just when I think I have it all figured out....

Less than one hour after I took this picture, this little guy was on his back in the MV ER, getting sewn together like a rag doll. A sad rag doll, by the way.

I have close to 300 pictures from our last jaunt to the island - but this is the one that makes me pause. I can't stop looking at it.

At the moment this picture was taken - if you'd asked me if Dec could conquer the world, I'd have said yes. Without hesitating, "Yes".

But in the hospital minutes later, as I held his tiny hand tight, wiped the crusty blood from his chin and read him boring stories from the kids water safety magazine we found in the lobby, I'd have had a very different answer.

He's a gentle, breakable, split-table, fragile baby.

How often we think we've got it all figured out.

How often I think that my hours spent planning each bit part, or managing each minute will give me more control - only to find that I have no control over any of it.

I'd had Dec's lunch made and waiting for him when Dame ran through the door shouting that we were on our way to the ER and to "grab the keys....quickly..."

Hard to swallow but important to note that it's not my job to have total control either.

My job is to save each memory scrap and kiss each memory scrape and wipe the dirt from banged up knees.

Oh and it's my job to enjoy it too. All of it.

Because just when I think I have it all figured out. I totally, totally don't.

Around each corner is a surprise. In this case, it came by way of blood-soaked tissues and big salty tears. And hours spent looking at gruesome food-clogged stitches and a mouth four times it's normal size.

Even though I'd planned for it to look something like a ham & cheese sandwich with a tall glass of chocolate milk.

(Followed by an afternoon at the beach.)

Oh well.

See Nonie.

See Nonie run into the library. Run Nonie. Run.

See Nonie dip magnets from the fridge into her yogurt.

See Nonie go potty.

See Nonie wear Daddy's shoes.

See Nonie finger paint. With peanut butter and milk.

See Nonie chew on her hair ties a minute after Mommy does her hair.

See Nonie crawl into the fridge to try to reach the grapes.

See Nonie cuddle with a dog. Cuddle Nonie. Cuddle.

See Nonie touch everything in the house. Twice. In one hour.

See Nonie pull Mommy's flowers out of the flower boxes on the front porch.

See Nonie get doted on by her babysitter.

See Nonie get spoiled by her babysitter.

See Nonie sit perfectly for hair dos with her babysitter.

See Nonie with 4 cute pigtails in her hair.

See Nonie with lovely french braids.

See Nonie get her nails done by her babysitter.

See Nonie get her nails done by her babysitter even though Nonie's Mommy has hidden all the nail polish in the house.

See Nonie with bright red nails.

See Nonie with pink nails and white flower embellishments.

See Nonie with her nails done for the third consecutive week.

See Nonie with a french manicure.

She certainly can can-can

If I am going to pick a season to complain about the weather,
I will choose winter.
You know, that season that lasts for about 7 months?

So I am not whining about the heat. I will just state that it is hot out there, and in here. In the morning, and at night. Usually between them, too.
But I am not whining. I'm stating facts.

I watch people complain on their facebook pages all winter long.
It's so cold! More snow? I can't believe it! But it's MAY!!!?!
Oh, they're just warm weather lovers - I thought - can't blame 'em!
But now...
It's so hot! More heat wave! I can't believe it! But it's JULY!!!?!
Enough.
Is enough.

When life hands you a heatwave,
make a strawberry kiwi juice cocktail.
With Sherbert.
And maybe some lemonade.

Heat in the summer,
that I expect.


Not my SUNflowers sizzling their petals off.



















Or Drake getting pound cake batter
on his eyebrow.