A while back I posted an entry called “That’s a terrible thing to say.” In it I vented about my frustration with my then 3 year old.   But, it’s been a year and WHAT  a year it’s been.

So much has happened that I would like to make sure I write about.  After the whole “getting kicked out of preschool” incident and the escalating anger and behavioral issues we decided we needed help.  Help learning how to parent this special boy.  So, through COUNTLESS hours of research and calling various doctors, child psychologists I found the perfect place for us to start.

Ball State University Psychoeducational Diagnostic Intervention Clinic.  There was a 6 month waiting list but because all our other options were going to cost thousands of dollars we went with this one.   Plus, this clinic does both IQ testing for giftedness AND behavioral testing as well.  The perfect fit. It was a weekend long testing, very thorough and Jackson had a blast.  It was just games to him.   They tested his IQ as well as for behavioral and emotional conditions. After the testing we had to wait another 3 weeks to get our results.

What we suspected was confirmed to us:  He’s a genius and he has ADHD.  Well, at least we had someone impartial and professional telling us so.  We were given parenting tips, diet changes and also suggestions for medication.  We researched, prayed, talked with our pediatrician (who we love and trust) and decided that to give Jackson all the chances he can in life to succeed he needed a little help.

I’m sure there will be those who are so anti-medication who are also equally uneducated but who have hearts of gold who will say we are just doping him up and that’s why he’s “good.”  That’s fine, you can say those things.  And then go back to your home and do what you see fit with your family.  As for me and my family, we will do the same.

Fast forward to today (a year and a half later).  Jackson is a pleasure to be around.  Learning new things in leaps and bounds.  Reading at a 1st grade level.  He’s in a new preschool and doing wonderfully!!!  At our first PTO meeting with Jackson’s teacher (who we told NOTHING to about his previous preschool experience, his IQ, nor his diagnosis or meds) she had nothing but glowing things to say about him.  Jim and I just sat there close to tears as we let her go on and explain how he is polite, highly intelligent, and fun he is.  A pleasure to have in her class!  Then, like a bubble about to burst, we let her know how excited we were by what she was telling us and why.  Poor woman, she must have thought we were nuts b/c Jim and I  talked over each other; explained where we had come from, what we had been through and what the testing had told us.

Just a few months ago he got an award.  I think the picture says it all:

This is the little boy that Jackson was all along.  He was just unable to let him out b/c he had so much going on in that big ol’ brain of his he didn’t know what to do with himself.  He is not a zombie on his medicine, he is himself.  The way he WANTS TO BE.  Able to focus, able to think, able to communicate his thoughts and feelings and, able to listen and control himself.

He loves school and can’t wait for kindergarten.  We haven’t totally ruled out homeschooling but for now it’s just on the shelf.  Let things develop and see what happens.  I, for one, am THRILLED to see!

There are some great programs on the network A&E.  My personal favorite is “Intervention.” Recently a new show was introduced called “Hoarders.”   It follows two individuals who suffer from OCD and anxiety that is centered in the “stuff” of their lives.  One collected animals to the point that she was facing prison time for animal cruelty because she had more cats than she even knew she had and they were dying of starvation.  Yet, she loved them dearly.  Another hoarded TRASH.  Honest to goodness garbage.  Others it is their treasures from their childhood or dead mother.

Watching these shows usually makes my skin crawl at the environment these people exist in.  You can’t really say they “live in” because a human being can’t really live in that state.  They merely exist.

I am pretty sure that at some level my father is a honest-to-goodness hoarder.  My Mom keeps his disease at bay by pitching things when he is at work. LOL.  The man can not bring himself to throw away an empty pack of cigarrettes.  He places them on the table DIRECTLY above the trash can but that extra 12 inches space seems entirely too large for him to cross.  So, my Mom throws it away when she sees it laying there.  It is that way with pretty much everything else.  I dread and hope I never see the day when Mom passes before Dad and he is in that house alone.  I am POSITIVE his home will look like those poor, sad people on “Hoarders.”  And what’s even more sad is who do you think is going to be sorry sap that has to go in and try to clear a path for my father to go to the bathroom?   Yea, that’s right.  Me.  The only daughter.  (a position that has SOO many perks but also so many draw backs).

With all of this said, it seems I got the opposite of the hoarding gene.  I can not stand clutter.  And it seems the older I get the more I seem to “see” the clutter.  Recently I have been a woman on a mission.  We are about to have a yard sale to “declutter” our home as well as make some extra dollars.  I am pretty sure I am probably selling stuff that at some point down the road I will wish I still had. But, I do not care. It is just STUFF.

The most precious things in life aren’t things!

For 5 days and 6 nights I have been surrounded by sick people.  Even worse, those people are people within my house.  And even worse, those people are the little people I hold so dear.  Which means I have been sneezed, cried, climbed, and puked on. Although one of my God given gifts is empathy I have a hard time having sympathy for sick people.  Especially when I am the one who is expected to jump every time someone says “Mommy.”  I had two babies a year and four days apart.  They are a month from being 2 and 3 years old but this week has been more draining and more taxing on my psyche and nerves than when Alex was a new born and Jackson was a year old.  I was blessed with sleepers (more or less).  So, I have never really had to go through all the sleepless nights or colicky stuff.  Thank God.

It is due to this past week I have seriously, and honestly been considering (along with my husband of course) about being done, fin Ito, finished, over, and completed having kids.  I have always thought one more child was in the future.  I have had the vision of my little brunette, brown-eyed little boy named Max.  But, after this last event I wonder I am cut out to be a mom of more than the two I have. And even those two, I wonder if they didn’t get a raw deal getting me.  I just feel like throwing myself through a window or fleeing like a thief in the night.  I am a woman who needs her sleep.  Ask anyone who knows me.  So, these nights of 2-3 hours of interrupted sleep for the past 5 nights is causing me to go a little batty (left eye twitches).

These little people, they don’t really know sick etiquette.  The idea of covering their mouth when they sneeze so Mighty Putty does not pelt from their nostrils?  Does not occur to them.  Even when Mom is only inches from their face.  Evidently, just crying seems to be the only thing they can do to tell you what is wrong.  Even when they can talk!  Jackson knows his planets, ABC’s, can count to 30, etc but try to get him to tell you what’s wrong when it’s 3 am and he is upset.  I just go down the checklist just like I used to when he was a baby.

Alex will wake up wringing wet but try and change her clothes and you will hear something of the same decibel as a fire truck siren.  Seriously, it sounds like I am beating the poor child.

Think anyone will take care of me IF I get sick?  I may just go to Mommy’s house LOL.  I guess we never get to clock out of this job huh? LOL.

Before Jim and I had children we talked hours and hours about our philosophies on every aspect of parenting to discipline, to sleeping arrangements, to how to have the “bird and the bees” talk.  We both were adamant, we did not want our children in our bed with us.  This is a topic that has been debated so thoroughly that I could scream but that is not what I am hoping to spark with this.  I am simply saying, for me and my family it is the way it is and the way it works.  Each child goes to bed in his or her bed and Jim and i sleep together in our bed.  It was something that was a bit difficult to establish, especially when I was nursing and getting up every 2-4 hours but we stuck to our plan and it has paid off.

Another thing we spoke about thoroughly and agreed on was to maintain our marriage; to cultivate it like a good gardener cultivates his crop.  We purposely take time away from our children to spend eye to eye in conversations and in love.  I want to show my kids what a marriage is supposed to be like.  I want to model a good relationship so that when they are searching for their spouse they do not settle on good enough.  My mother and father have been married for 43 years but I really never felt they were in love with one another.  I remember seeing them hug a few times but there was no real emotion there.  Every child wants their Mom and Dad to be in love (even if you do not want to think about it – yuck!)  I almost settled on good enough before I met my husband.  I thought the love that you read about, the love that is all encompassing, the love that is so strong it can bring you to tears was simply a fantasy.  I am so blessed that I found my husband and the love of my life and know for a fact that that love does indeed exist.  I want…..need….my children to know that.

Our biggest agreement was that we wanted them to know we would die for them.  That they were the most precious, loved and important people in our life.  But, that the world does not revolve around them nor do we.  These parents who run themselves literally ragged because each child is in 3 different extracurricular activities is an example of what I am talking about.  If there is a show on that we want to watch, we will watch it and if the kids want to watch something else, tough.  You either watch it with us (if appropriate) or go down stairs and watch something else.  They are not at the helm of this ship and I know later in life this lesson will serve them well.  They will not enter this world thinking they are owed something from society or the world.  They must earn it.

Now, I have to say, we are in the infancy of this young family and we have passed several of the tests we knew would come.  I obviously do not have all the answers.  If in 25 years I have one in prison and one still living at home I will say “I WAS WRONG” but at least we have a plan.  It is the most important task God has ever give us, or any person, which is to raise these little beings into productive, happy, healthy and independent people.  Without a plan, I fear we would lose course and make bad decisions.  Do not make life altering decisions by the seat of your pants.  Make a plan and stick to it. Now, if I can only head my own suggestions.

We may be screwing our kids up by the methods we have decided to utilize.  If that is true, we will be ROYALLY messing them up since we plan to homeschool.  Those poor poor kids…..lol

That’s me and I wear that crown proudly.  Last night I celebrated my 30th birthday with 30 of my closest friends.  The pre-party was a local (and yummy) Mexican restaurant.  I got some pretty risque gifts like “Stripper Pills – release your inner pole dancer” and “Glow in the Dark Lubricant.”  Practical gifts like hand sanitizer and Tide To Go Pen.  There were “grown up” presents like a cute pair of angels from my friend Tess and my Mom got me fleece sheets (ahhhhhh).   And a silly gift that was used all night: a shiny pink and silver crown that read, “Birthday Bitch.”   (thanks Joanna!!)  Yes, I wore it the entire night.

I think the gifts I received are what I am and who I have become over the past 30 years.  I’m lighthearted and love to laugh.  I tend to enjoy the between the sheets athletics with my husband.  I am practical and have grown up.  But, not to the detriment of just relaxing and having a good time.  In my last post I spoke about how I didn’t want to take things or myself too seriously when I turned 30 like it seemed so many I knew had done.  I hope I managed to walk that fine line between being a responsible, bill paying, mother and wife and a fun-loving, social drinking, always laughing, woman who loves life and those she chooses to share it with.

I had such a wonderful time last night.  The perfect way to spend my 30th birthday and I thank my Mr. Tolerable for throwing me a wonderful party.  The friends, wine, karaoke and chicken wings were all fantastic and you are the love of my life now at 30 and forevermore.

The 18th of this month will mark the anniversary of my entrance into this world.  I remember every year on my birthday Mom telling me the story of my birth and the exciting happenings that soon followed.  If she forgot, I would be sure to remind her.  I am the youngest and the only girl.  The gap between my closest brother and myself is 7 years.  I think you know where I am going with this….I was spoiled beyond measure or reason.  I had a happy-go-lucky childhood.  I had the best Mom in the world and it is because of her I am the mother I am today.  I had the best roll model anyone could have.  From birth to about 18 I was a happy girl who knew what she wanted in and out of life.  My how things can change.

I remember being a youthfully stupid 20 year old and thinking how far away 30 seemed.  I would look at “grown ups” around me and think, “30 year old people are just so…..old.”  They had mortgages, jobs, kids, responsibilities and took everything seriously.  I didn’t want to be that way when I turned 30.  I think I did ALL of them except maybe the last.  But, honestly, if this past year is any indication of what my 30′s are going to be like this is the most awesome time of my life.  These are the good ol’ days.

When I was turning 20 I was dating Mr. Good Guy and confused about where my path would lead me.  I was lost, confused, sad and empty.  College was just something to pass the time.  I look at it now as 4 expensive years of extended high school.  Of course, when looking at pictures of my 135 lbs self and can’t help but think, “That would be nice.”  The body is really the only thing I would like to go back to.  But, I know I have “spread out” as my dad would say, due to carrying two beautiful children for 9 months.  The stretch marks, saggy boobs, and big butt are just a few of the rights of passage of being what I am today; a mom.  My dream.  I know some of the Gloria Steinem’s out there say that I am not living to my full potential.  That women for centuries have been fighting so I would not have to “lesson” myself and stay home barefoot and pregnant.  I agree with part of that.  Women have been fighting so that all women have the choice of what they want to do with their lives.  I choose, and relish, being a stay-at-home mother and wife. It’s a little out-of-date.  Probably not hip or cool.  But, I love it.  And, just to toot my own horn a bit, I’m pretty durn good at it.  My husband often tells me I am the most natural mother he’s ever seen.  To that I answer, “nothing I’ve ever done has ever felt so right.”  It’s like breathing.

And to think that there were several years when I did not know if I would ever to realize my dream.  It took over my every thought and prayer.  A commercial, a song, a pregnant lady at the grocery store were all reminders of what I did not have.  My mid 20′s were full of doubt, anger, frustration and sadness because of the infertility.  I was so happy to have found my soul mate.  Until I met Mr. Tolerable I thought the love that songs are written about and movies portray was something made up.  As soon as I meet my soul mate I understood what love was.  But, there was a big piece of the puzzle missing; a family.  It was a depressing and lonely time but I learned so much about myself and what was really important that I know I am blessed for the struggles we faced.

If there was one thing I would like to go back to during that time it would be the quiet times with just Mr. Tolerable and I.  The trips we went on.  The laughter we had as a young couple with no children to chase after, keep us awake at night, or discipline.

But the 30′s, so far, seem so wonderful I just want to press the pause button on the dial of life.  My children are old enough to not need me 24 hours a day but young enough to need me most of the time.  My best friend and husband is working from home and spending so much more time with us.  We have a cute house by the park in a nice little town.  I have great friends, a wonderful family, and an ever growing faith in Jesus.

I am in the process of getting back that 135 lbs body from my 20′s so there will be nothing from that time I want to go back to.  I am about 3 weeks into “Project: Bringing Sexy Back.”  Here is my semi before picture.  Wish me luck!  Happy Birthday and Life to me!

People who know me, know I am a goofball.  But from time to time I like to get serious. The last two blog posts were my serious side…now I’d like to get back to the goof side.  It’s a lot more fun.

My goal this year is to buy ALL my Christmas gifts online or through a catalog.  I wish I could say it was because I want to avoid the big crowds at the stores. But, in all honesty, I just LOVE getting packages delivered to me.  When the UPS, DHL or FedEx truck goes by and doesn’t stop at my door, I feel a level of sadness I’m sure  is unhealthy for an adult to have over something so trivial.  And when I hear the screech of the breaks on that big brown truck I rush down the stairs like I am meeting a long lost relative.  The mixed feelings I have when I have missed the truck and have a package on my porch are, I’m sure, certifiable.  It just does not bring the rush that having a packaged handed to me from the guy in the ugly brown shorts affords.

Just yesterday my friend, Ben, from the UPS truck made a stop at my home to deliver a LARGE box. I knew instantly what it was.  My baby girl’s Christmas present.  I found a large lot on ebay that I could not pass up. There is not a little girl I know who would not love to get this:

Big Lot of Fisher Price Sweet Streets Buildings, People and accessories

I am pretty confident that I am compensating for my childhood dreams of having an elaborate dollhouse with all the perfect furniture and rugs.  I had a great childhood but there were two things I never got that I always wanted: a dollhouse and tap/ballet lessons.  I cannot wait until Christmas arrives and she walks down the hallway and sees this miniature city waiting for her little hands to manipulate.  I only wish Santa would not get all the glory but that is the selfish side of me rearing it’s ugly head.

Next year?  Dance classes…

If you are in a marriage where you feel like your husband would rather spend time with the dog/golf club/TV/car/bar/buddies/his right hand than you – skip this entry because I have so much bragging to do on my guy that it would make even the most “happily married” person gag.   You’ve been fully warned.

If you have been reading my posts you know that recently my husband left his job at a new home builder and has decided to work from home as a professional handicapper/horse player.  I know most women would cringe at the idea of their husband being home.  Honestly, I wondered how we would fare being in a confined space for an extended period of time.  Turns out – I NEVER WANT HIM TO GET A REAL JOB AGAIN.

His chosen career allots for plenty of time to do other things around the house.  He creates his own “honey do” list and works on it with vigor.  Example one: I asked him this past summer to help me transform our downstairs living room (AKA the place where we pile the clean clothes as it waits……and waits for me to come down and fold it) into a play room for the kids.  The wintertime in Southern Indiana can get rather mundane to put it nicely and it would be so nice to have somewhere else to go.  Plus, play dates would hopefully be a BIT quieter and more fun for the kids as well as the Moms.  Well, my Mr. Tolerable worked his cute little tail away for the past 2 days moving furniture, a Big Screen TV, rewiring the TV so we have a VCR AND a DVD player, removing doors, and vacuuming.  I didn’t remind him, I didn’t harp at him.  He listened when I said it the first time over 4 months ago and just did it.  How many men do that?  He has also been “wiping the rest of this place into shape” as he like to put it.  Hanging new binds, measuring our back door to be replaced, organizing his offfice, mowing, grocery shopping, doing laundry (since he is downstairs anyway, where the machine is – his words, not mine) ordering a new fridge and me a new Palm Centro (AWESOME).  I just keep saying, “You spoil me so bad!”  His response is always the manly, “Cuz you sex me up baby.”  Followed with either a butt squeeze or a boob honk.  What can I say, he’s still a man.

Jackson and Alex absolutely adore their Daddy.  It has been so awesome watching their relationships grow in just a few months.  They now get to see Daddy anytime they want.  Yesterday morning Jackson made his Daddy blue berry muffins (with a touch of help from Mommy).  He was so proud of himself and couldn’t wait for Daddy to wake up.  As he was stiring the mixture he looks up at me with those huge hazel eyes and says, “This make Daddy so happy!”  My heart melted.  Jackson was right.

Our relationship and marriage is better than ever.  Our finances (thanks in part to inheritances) have never been better.  Our sex life is amazing.  Our friendship is even more solid than before and we’ve always been best friends.  He no longer comes home pissed and stressed out about that “stupid company.”  The overall demeanor of the household has lightened and become so happy.  I feel so blessed to be where we are right now.  I pray that he never has to return to a “real” job and can stay home with us forever.

Have you ever head the saying, “An insane person never questions their sanity?”  If that’s true I must be the most sane person on the planet because I question my level of lucidity daily.  It doesn’t help that I recently decided I no longer need to be on the antidepressants that were prescribed to me when I was going through infertility treatments.  It was a hard time in my life and I found myself in a dark hole.  The medication helped tremendously.  Now, however, I am the blessed mother of two beautiful, healthy little rug rats.  My thinking was that I no longer need that medicine.  But, being the “jump first look later” woman I am, I just stopped taking it.  Fast forward a week or so and I was suffering from nausea, headaches, exhaustion, and moodiness.  When these symptoms didn’t go away and the home pregnancy test alleviated the thoughts I had of pregnancy, I Google, “going off Prozac” and turns out there are all kinds of warnings about going off of it cold turkey.  Wish I would have read that BEFORE I decided to stop taking it.

I waited another week (we are now up to 3 weeks) and saw my family doctor.  Honestly though, I didn’t really go to the doctor about the Prozac withdraws, I went because my asthma had come back full force from the days of my childhood.  I had started using my rescue inhaler 4-6 times a day, using a nebulizer at night before bed, and awakened in the night with attacks as well.  They put me on Advair – all is well.  Haven’t had to use my inhaler or nebulizer once since I started taking it.  Awesome.  Anywhoooo……while I was at the doctors office I told them about how I had gone off of Prozac cold turkey.  I was warned about it but they realized it was too late for that and said that there is nothing they can do now since it had been 3 weeks.  Had I gone in when I wanted to go off of it they would have put me on a decreasing dosage regimen.  I would take a total of 2-3 months to be fully off of it.  So, their advice was to just grin and bear it – the worse was almost over. So, I still have headaches, nausea, dizziness, moodiness, and just feel like crap.

Meanwhile, externally things are not doing much better.  My father-in-law passed away last week.  I had grown to love this funny old man.  He reminded me so much of my husband that it was hard not to see how much he had influenced and created the man that I hold so dear.  Funerals, Catholic Mass, prayers, and tears followed his death but also a lot of laughter.  As my husband and his two siblings went through his belongings we were all surprised amused at the level of organization this man had in everything he had.  From cassette tapes, to videos, to his check book.  We found ledgers dating back in the 50′s!  All in order, all together in a box.  He had a plan for everything.  Nothing happened by chance – it was all planned, scheduled and well thought out.  This is one of the many traits Jim the Tolerable inherited from his father.  Thank God.  Left to me, nothing would get done.  I am easily distracted.  Fly by the seat of my pants.  And live in a sea of spontaneity.  We balance each other out.

So, getting back on the train of thought I had when I started this post – Everything is crazy around here.  If you were to look at my calendar on the fridge you would see that pretty much every day had something on it.  Then, throw in a funeral, a sick grandmother, and a social life and we have not been home more than 5 days total this month.  We all feel out of sorts and are ready to just BE HOME.

I’d love to finish this post but I have to get in the shower so we can head out of town to visit my grandmother in the hospital, then to a wedding rehearsal and dinner.  Tomorrow a wedding.

Wake me up when November arrives.

EDITED TO ADD: The night of the wedding we got the call from the hospital that my Grandma passed.  I’m a weird blend of releaved, saddened, and happy for Grandma.  I will miss her but know that she is finally with her beloved Walter.  We stayed “away from home” several more days.  Now maybe will be able to relax at home as a family for a bit.  Time will tell.

Never before have I had more of a respect for Clark W. Griswald as I did this past weekend.  I am always trying to make sure my family and I have a good time but sometimes life gets in the way.

The husband, kids and I packed up the camper/travel trailer, the SUV and our expectations for fun and headed north to Speedway, Indiana.  The racing capital of the world?  Where they race the Indy 500?  So, you’ve heard of it?  Good.  This Sunday was the first motorcycle race at the legendary speedway in almost 100 years.  Since my husband would watch ostriches race at the IMS we had to go.  Being the sport I am I looked at it as a time that the family can get away, maybe hit the zoo or Children’s Museum and have the picturesque camping adventure as seen only in the RV brochures.

PASHA!  The first two days were the closest to hell I think I have experienced.  First off, it was humid, hot and oh yea, OUR GENERATOR DOESN’T WORK.  This is not that big of a deal except it rained and rained and RAINED (thanks to hurricane Ike).  Imagine being stuck inside a hot camper where you can’t open the windows due to the rain, no TV, no microwave, and toddlers who seem as if their shoes have springs.  Not my idea of a good time.  Jim, being the dutiful husband and father headed out in the rain and bought another generator!  I hated the idea of spending the money but I have to admit, I was beyond happy when the air conditioning hit my face and I heard the theme song from “Word World.”

Second day, more rain but that’s ok.  Jim is going over to the track to watch practice and I am taking the kids and meeting a friend and her son at the Children’s Museum.  What a great day this will be.  When I arrived at the museum I turned into a parking lot that was only for school buses and handicapped vehicles.  As I am attempting to leave said parking lot a woman who obviously takes her job as security very serious flags me down.  I roll down my window and she says,

“You are going to cause a WRECK!  You went the wrong way all the way through this parking lot!”

Playing a sheepish stupid girl I say, “Oh, I’m sorry – I’m just trying to get out of here and over to the parking garage.”

Angry rent-a-cop: “Well, back up, go down THIS aisle and exit THAT exit.  Cross the street and you will find the entrance to the garage.”

Me:  “Oh, OK.”

Rent-a-cop:  “Be careful and don’t cause a wreck!”

I back my big ol’ Excursion up and try to do the right thing.  Evidently I didn’t see the curb and ran right over it as I went down “that” aisle.  I didn’t even look back at the evil woman and I felt my face flush in embarrassment.  I can only imagine I looked like Big Foot crawling over cars as my head just about hit the ceiling as I bounced around inside.  I should have seen this as a omen of things to come…..

Once inside the museum, Val and I watched the boys run around the Dynosphere looking at the skeletal remains of a T-rex.  Sam was showing Jackson all the cool cubby holes and hidden treats.  About 40 minutes into this dreamlike outing I turn to get the stroller (where Alex was) to head to the train exhibit and Jackson has disappeared.  My heart stopped.  I just knew this was not good.  That kid is the fastest thing this side of the Ohio.  I was right.  Frantic searching by both me and Val yielded nothing.  As each second went by I could feel my level of anxiety rising.  Val says, “Follow me.” and I’m try my best to do just that.  But, let me qualify this by saying Val is one of those sick people who actually run for “pleasure” so the speed at which she twisted through the Egyptian catacombs exhibit left me panting behind her and trying to just catch a glimpse of her shadow so I didn’t lose her trail.  She leads me to a security officer who has the bright idea to help me search for him.  At that moment I wanted her to call the head of security, have all the doors locked, and have every single person in that place look for the “little boy with a grey shirt that says ‘my Dad rocks.’”  But, we searched the floor AGAIN and she finally called head of security.  Now this is where my memory gets a little foggy – maybe I was in panic, shock, whatever.  But, the head of security who has an ear piece in his ear says, “There is a code Adam matching this description.  I’m with the mother.”  Silence as he listens to the other end.

Then he says, “Is your little boy wearing a grey shirt, blue jean shorts and loves race cars?”

“Yes! Where is he???”

“They are going to bring him to the concierge desk.  Follow me.”

I get there and wait, wait……head of security again is obviously listening to someone talking in his hear and then he turns to me and says, “It seems they are having a hard time getting him to come with them.  I’ll just take you to him.”  I’m confused by what all this means but at this point all I want to do is see my son, hug him, smell his sweet hair and ring his little neck!  We go up to FLOOR 4. That’s right, the little monger got 3 floors away from me!  We step off the elevator and what do I see?  Jackson sitting inside an Indy car.  It seems he wouldn’t let any of the security take him out of “his” Indy car.  When he sees me he says with the utmost excitement, “Hi Bobby, I in a racing car….a Indy Car!!!”  So proud of himself.  I scoop his butt up out of that car hug him so tight and hold back the tears then through clinched teeth I say right in his ear, “Don’t you ever run away from Mommy again or I’ll spank your butt so hard your head will spin.”

After all of this it was hard for me to relax and enjoy this wonderful museum.  It was fun though.  I just had that adrenalin rush and such a rush is hard to come down from.  Val stayed with us for about another hour.  We saw the rest of the “kid friendly” parts of the museum.  Jackson saw it all from the safe haven of the stroller, much to his chagrin.  Then Val and Sam left when it became painfully obvious it was time for Sam’s nap. LOL.  I went ahead and stayed at the museum and saw the rest of the museum..another hour or so.

The trip back to the camper was uneventful – no curbs were harmed.  No rent-a-cops angered.  Kids all safely strapped into car seats.  I did get lost for a bit but a call to Jim got us headed in the right direction.  At the camper Jim and I realize we are about out of milk and other such staples.  He heads to the grocery store while I stay back with the kids to feed them.  While I am trying to microwave their chicken nuggets the NEW generator pops a breaker.  I head outside to flip the switch.  While I’m out there our neighbor comes over and says, “I thought no one was here so I turned your generator the other way – it’s just so damn loud.”  I explain how it was an “emergency” buy.  How our “quiet” generator went out and this was just the one they had at Lowe’s.  He was nice about it but made it clear that he didn’t like the noise.  I turn, flustered and embarrassed for the 3rd time today when my hand pops off the door handle.  It is LOCKED.  Jackson was able to reach the door from him high chair and just my luck, LOCKED ME OUT.  No keys, no cell phone, no patience.  I just sit down on the step and hold my head in my hands.  You would think I would just sit there and cry but all I could do was laugh.  I hang off the hand rail and do some sort of contortionist back bend to see into the trailer.  Jackson sees me and smiles, “Hi Bobby…what cha doin?”  “Unlock the door Jackson.  UNLOCK THE DOOR!”  He fiddles with it a bit until finally, success. I am inside.  When Jim got home he and I had one hell of a fight.  I cried, he apologized and we both agreed tomorrow would be (had to be) better.

It was.