Bathroom Humor

I have this thing about public bathrooms. Like I hate them. I think they are disgustingly dirty germ contraptions and unless I am about to literally explode I will not use them. So, making sure we all use the bathroom before we ever leave the house is a huge ordeal. It's like, "You better make sure you go now because you don't want to have to use a public bathroom" and it is said with the same disdain that the less informed and less rational among us say, "You better be good and never make Jesus mad because you don't want to have to go to public school." (Disclaimer: I am NOT one of those people).

Anyway, I digress.... My point is that public restrooms are to be avoided at all costs. This line of thought has been instilled in my children, more specifically my daughter. She would rather hold it for days, weeks, possibly months before she'd step foot in a public bathroom. I kid you not.

On the rare occasion she just has to pee bad enough she'll go in, check it out, and if it is acceptable enough she may consider it. Under those circumstances she will then promptly shower when we arrive back home to rid herself of the nasty public bathroom germs. They are a special breed of germs, you know. However, 99 percent of the time she says, "Um, no. This is a disgusting public bathroom. I will not go in here."

So, tonight my husband is running around the living room chasing the kids and every once in a while he'd stop suddenly, back his rear end up, shake it and the kids would run into it face first (Yes, sounds thrilling....it's what passes for fun in our house). He does this to our son who thinks it is hilarious.

Then he does it to our daughter. Hilarious? Not so much. Her exact words were, "Dad, you use disgusting public bathrooms. Your bottom has public bathroom germs. Do not put that by my face." She was dead serious. This kid is hardcore.

Fall is Here......For Two Days

Today was a great day. Usually you could never tell by being in Arizona that it is October. We have had temperatures this entire month in the high 80's to mid 90's. For someone like me, who has made no secret about hating the heat, it has been miserable. Today, though, was different. Today the high was 58 degrees. It was beautiful. It was as if God himself personally granted me this temporary reprieve from what irks me most.

Anyway, I put the kids in pants and long sleeves, something they don't get to wear often, and we spent hours outside. We took walks, played in the yard, went exploring in the desert, climbed trees, and played with sticks and rocks. In other words we did what people that live in other, cooler parts of the country get to do on a more regular basis. The kids were in heaven and I was just thrilled to not be sweating.

As the sun started to set this evening and the wind started whipping a bit more the kids finally said they were cold and wanted to head inside. It was a great day. The best part is that tomorrow is supposed to be more of the same.

Reason 10,372

Me: What is this on my forehead?
Hubby: (Poking it) It's like a zit.
Me: Yeah, but it's not a zit.
Hubby: That's why it's "like" a zit.

Just one more reason why I keep him around.

A Pleasant Surprise

When we were kids my dad and mom took me and my siblings down to the bank to open Johnny Appleseed accounts. However, I refused to give any of my money to the banker and while my siblings all left the bank with account ledgers I left with my roll of cash and jar of coins. I greatly mistrusted the bank and felt that if I turned over my money I'd never see it again...those bankers would surely take it and spend it. Instead I hid money in my sock drawer, under my mattress, in different containers throughout my room. When I went away to college, my parents MADE me open a checking and savings account and needless to say my relationship with my bank is a bit more trusting these days (although in light of recent events I may go back to my money stashing ways).

Despite being all grown up and having various checking and savings accounts I haven't quite let go of my money stashing habits. I won't give away my current hiding spots, but needless to say there are various spots around my house where I'll stash money for use at a later time, forget about it, and then find myself deliriously excited when months or years later I unearth the cash. A few months ago I hit the jackpot when I discovered over $200 I had set aside and then promptly forgot about.

So, what is the point of this you ask? Well, today I logged into my Paypal account and discovered I had a considerable balance. Whether or not I knew about this balance is something I can't remember. Obviously, at one point I knew the money was coming, but for whatever reason forgot to check the account and transfer the money. Months ago I had sold a few sets of a grammar program I had developed to two homeschooling mothers and one English tutor. I remember getting emails saying payments had been deposited, obviously before sending out the curriculum. Beyond that, no recollection whatsoever.

Anyway, the discovery took me back to my days of yore when I would frequently discover cash around my apartment and later my house. I don't find as much money laying around anymore. We seem to spend most of it these days, but it's always nice to be surprised. And yes, I promptly transferred the Paypal money to my checking account.

A Hesitant Return

When I was blogging regularly, before my hiatus, I would think in terms of "How can I turn this into a blog post." Random, everyday events underwent the scrutiny of whether or not it was interesting enough to merit a post. When ideas were thin this thought process at times went into overdrive. It was annoying. I couldn't turn it off.

The first week of my break I found myself still reverting back to that way of thinking even though I knew I wasn't going to be blogging for a while. It had become automatic. However, relatively quickly I pretty much forgot all about my blog, I quit thinking of my day's events as blog posts and started to enjoy them just for what they were, not for what I could turn them into. I have to admit, I was happier.

But then I realized I missed writing. I missed processing different events or feelings through this medium we call blogging. So, I have returned. I think the difference this time will be that I am not going to put myself on an arbitrary schedule to write. I'll write when I feel moved to do so and hopefully this will help restore some of that balance.

Thanks for reading and it's good to be back.

Surreal was Sure Real

Tonight was crazy. I was visiting my grandmother with the kids and when we were getting ready to head home a woman and her daughter (probably around 9 or 10 years of age) came running down the street asking if we had seen a 3 year old boy. From what I was able to decipher from the hysterics he was autistic, could not communicate, and apparently wandered out the front door 30 minutes prior. I asked if she had called the police, which unbelievably she hadn't.

I can't begin to presume to understand the panic I would feel if I suddenly found one of my children missing, but I'd like to think that if I couldn't find my son or daughter within a couple of minutes and a thorough check of the usual places they play and hide turned up empty, that I'd call the police pretty darn quickly. So, I called from my cell right there in the street. They started asking me for information to issue an Amber Alert, most of which I didn't know. So, I had to chase the woman down the street in the dark to have her give a description of clothing, height, eye color, etc.

I don't even know these people, but I was heartbroken. While the mother was talking to the police, the daughter was hysterical. She was crying that she missed her brother, wanted to see him again, etc. I hugged her, not knowing what else to do. I felt horrible for her.

The entire thing was just so surreal. I was just talking earlier in the evening to my grandmother about the little girl that just went missing walking home from school. Then here we are a few hours later watching a potential abduction, missing child scenario unfold. We searched the streets, talked to neighbors, shouted his name in virtual pitch black, knowing that he couldn't answer. It was probably the most helpless I have ever felt outside of the times my son has been hospitalized.

Long story short, the little boy was found later that evening wandering in the front yard of another home. Apparently, they had been asking him his name and where he lived but unable to communicate he couldn't tell them. (Which also begs the question why they hadn't called the police to report finding a small child wandering in their yard).

I know things can happen in the blink of an eye, but it makes me wonder how a parent doesn't notice his or her child is missing for over 30 minutes and why upon that realization the first instinct wasn't to call the police. In any event, I am just incredibly relieved that this turned out the way it did, because we all know how much worse it could have been.

You better believe I am hugging my children extra hard tonight.