Seis Puerqueños

{Alternately titled: Another Miracle}

This evening we went for a run. Normally we don’t. Normally Aaron and Harmon play in the front yard. Every day. But tonight we went for a run. People, exercise will save your life.

(taken from our front door)

We were a block from home when we heard a loud bang and I told Aaron I thought it was a crash, as the corner we live on has a lot of crashes. As we got closer we saw a car across the street facing the wrong way partially smashed up. I told Aaron to go see if they needed blankets or anything but when we got to the corner we found a car on our porch and a lady laying in our yard. She was taken to the hospital, probably has some broken bones, and as far as I know the people in the other car were shaken up but otherwise ok.

That is the best run I have ever taken.
We will not be playing in the front yard any time soon.
Did I mention how blessed/scared we are feeling lately?

It’s really easy to take everything for granted. Like that you went to the store and didn’t get in a car accident. Or that you don’t have any horrifying diseases. It seems I often only remember to be grateful when something is going wrong and I notice that it had been good before.

Tuesday we were driving back from Aaron’s parent’s house in Montana. Before we left we said a prayer for safety like we always do. It’s like it’s part of the checklist: pack car, go to the bathroom, buckle seatbelts, pray. We were a bit over a half hour into our 9+ hour drive when we experienced the scariest thing I have ever had the displeasure of experiencing in a car. Going almost 70 (the speed limit) in rain with some water on the roadway our car fishtails. We are on a two-lane highway and begin to slide at a 45 degree angle into the other lane toward a full size red pick-up coming straight at us. While managing to say over and over: “oh my gosh oh my gosh hold on hold on” all I can think of is how my baby brother (ok, he’s 13) is about to be smashed by the truck and probably my smaller baby as well. I want to die thinking about going home with half my family, but I can see no good ending to the situation, best case scenario rolling our truck into the ditch. Miraculously our truck gets some grip and somehow Aaron is able to ease it over to the shoulder on the opposite side of the road. We realize that not everyone who prays for protection is protected every time, but we KNOW that we were protected this time. Everyone is fine, the truck without even a scratch.

I spend the rest of the day (ok, I still am) agonizing over how close we came to a lot of serious injuries and perhaps worse. I replay the scene over and over in my head. But in the end all I can be is grateful. Grateful for this time, and all the others I don’t even think about.

Today I was minding my own business, going into the kitchen to get Harmon a snack, when out of my PANT LEG climbs… A HUGE BLACK SPIDER. People, for real, that deserves all caps. A huge scary black furry sick spider came out of the pants I WAS WEARING. I screamed like a little girl, and shouted in the highest pitched voice possible “are you even kidding me?!?!?!?!?!” and then smashed it to death with a paper towel.

In your squished face, spider.

I broke my only rule I have for myself: don’t leave the babies alone together. ever. especially if they are both roaming free on the floor. ever.

I went out to switch around some laundry, and I heard Sammy (who I had left rolling to and fro on the floor in the front room while Harmon played quietly across the room) scream. I assumed it was because Harmon had stolen her toy, she was stuck somewhere, or perhaps worst case Harmon was exerting a bit too much love in the way of smacking his sister on the head. After perhaps 30 seconds of screaming I finished and returned to find Harmon sitting on Sammy’s back/butt.

And for the first time, I did not take a picture first. Because come on, I would not want to be squished by someone double my weight while my mother took a picture before rescuing me. I have standards people.

Last night:

Aaron: Why is there a diaper in the fridge?
Kelsey: What?
Aaron: A used diaper, in the fridge.
Kelsey: …….
Kelsey: Harmon or Sammy’s? (you can tell by the sharpie letter written on the back)
Aaron: Harmon’s.
Kelsey: (thinking) Oh! Maybe I did it when I picked it up off the bedroom floor right before we left and put his milk away.
Aaron: Gross.

Moral of the story: Sleep more and check the trash for important things you may have meant to put in the fridge. (There were none.)

Three weeks ago I left Harmon with my dad for an hour or two. When I picked him up he seemed to be in one piece, and smelled a little bit like my dad. I figured this was normal, as Sammy often smells like whatever lady has been holding her last’s perfume.

What struck me as odd was that after I washed the shirt Harmon had been wearing, it still smelled like my dad’s cologne. And then after he wore it, I washed it again. And it still smelled. And again. And again. Today I put the shirt on Harmon and it STILL smells like a fresh application of my dad’s scent.

Being reminded that he had done this, I sent my dad the following email:

“how many gallons of your cologne did you put on harmon’s shirt a couple weeks ago anyway? I have washed it at least four times and it still reeks strongly of your scent.”

His reply?

“From How Stuff Works: “Scent-marking is a perfectly normal and natural behavior that is instinctive in your dog child’s grandfather”. “

You are a freak dad, for real.

(Oh, and the colors? He did those too.)

Seriously, I behave at Costco. I never leave my cart in the middle of the aisle, I never push people out of the way for samples, I always put my cart away, and I even pick up the crackers my child launches from the cart. Why then is my karma so awful?

___________________________________________

Dear Man Waiting In Line BEHIND Me At The Costco Food Court,

I know you were probably hungry. The lure of the Costco food court can make even full people indulge. I know you had been waiting in line for a maximum of 3 minutes. But WHAT on earth would possess you to cut in front of a lady with two small children, one of which was starting to cry? I bet you thought that you wouldn’t be verbally accosted with: “Did you REALLY just cut in front of me?!?!!?!”

Your response was potentially worse than the cutting. (I’m sure you didn’t know that although cutting is one of my biggest pet peeves, lying about it is even higher on the list.) Informing me that “there are two lanes open” didn’t help. Obviously anyone could see that the signs indicated that two lanes were open, but if you had been watching at all, you may have noticed that only one was really open (the lack of humans at the second one making it not really open), and going around me to go to the only actually open one doesn’t make any sense. Your extra true colors were shown when I countered with an incredulous “seriously?!?!” and you responded “I didn’t even know you were in line…”

REALLY? I am now confused because were there two lanes open, or did you not know I was in line? Those don’t work as complimentary excuses. At least if you are going to cut in front of me be a man and admit it. Don’t cut and then lie to my face.

You’ll get your chopping soon enough,
Kelsey

P.S. If you even felt bad (hah!) about the child in the cart screaming “hot dogggggggggg” as I quickly stormed out of of Costco so I didn’t physically assault you, don’t worry, I took him to McDonalds instead. He doesn’t even really like hot dogs anyway. (Or McDonalds, I appeased him with goldfish crackers)