It snowed again yesterday morning, because we are on Third Winter this year. We keep getting these HOPES that Spring is coming, but then it snows again and smashes all of our dreams of sunshine and tulips into the ice and the slush. On Saturday, Thing 2 wore shorts, because we’d just cleared Second Winter, and we thought, “Spring! Finally!” Everything melted, and the streets ran with our snow that was hopefully going away until next November. And then it snowed again, for Third Winter, and we woke up to a fresh layer on Monday morning.
Which was on top of all the snow that had melted when it was fifty-six degrees outside on Saturday.
All of the melted snow that was now frozen into sheets of ice. Sheets of ice… under the snow.
The boy went out to warm up his car yesterday morning. He came inside and said, “I just biffed it in the driveway and wiped out.” Since he was still upright, with nary a broken bone in sight, and since he’s seventeen and resilient, I patted him on the back and told him that his lunch was packed and sitting on the kitchen counter.
Twenty minutes later, Hubs texted from Thing 2’s school, as he was dropping him off, and said, “When you go out, be careful. It is SLICK.” He used the caps-lock key for SLICK, because Hubs was trying to get his point across. I texted back something along the lines of, “Blah, blah, blah. This isn’t my first winter rodeo.”
Which is… clearly… something you should never really do, because… well… KARMA. Or the Lord.
I went out to start my own Suburban a few minutes later. I walked out the door, and sixteen-hundredths of a second later, I was flat on my back.
Mama, you see, had fallen. And what mamas in their forties don’t like to do is actually FALL, because FALLING translates into INSURANCE DEDUCTIBLE and ORTHOPEDIC SURGEON and HIP REPLACEMENT.
I laid there on the frozen patio and thought to myself, “I have broken my ankle.” Which was evidenced by the fact that my shoe had come plum dadgum OFF of my foot, and was eight feet away from my body. It was the first time in my life when I decided that I should invest in one of those Life-Alert necklaces that ninety-six year old women wear… for this exact reason. I suddenly… desperately… wanted a button dangling from my neck that I could push for help.
And then… thankfully… I realized that I had not actually broken anything, and that I was still fully capable of getting up and walking myself back upstairs to change my soaked clothes, because I had unceremoniously landed in a puddle of slop. I thanked the Lord that I was still alive, without any blunt-force-trauma to the head. I thanked Him that all of my extremities were still intact, and that no one was near me with an iPhone, getting new footage of LOOK AT THIS FORTY-SOMETHING-YEAR-OLD WOMAN FALL ON THE ICE ON HER PATIO.
I was alive and well.
But today? Oh, people. I might as well be Methuselah’s mother, for as limber and spry and wonderful as I feel. I am what the older generation refers to as STIFF and also SORE. The Ben Gay and the Aleve have become my best friends today, but NO BROKEN BONES!
Anyway. This is why I have to be quick tonight. Mama needs to put some old-fashioned liniment oil on and head straight to bed.
Back on March 5th, our little guy did, indeed, turn six. He turned six even though I couldn’t believe six entire years had passed since he’d been born. He turned six even though it sounds like REAL BOY now, instead of MAMA’S LITTLE BABY.
And he was pleased as punch to do so.
His big request was, “Mom, could you wrap my presents in camouflage wrapping paper with turquoise bows?” It was a tall and very specific order, but THANK YOU, WALMART, FOR COMING THROUGH ONCE IN YOUR LIFE! They had the wrapping supplies I needed for my birthday boy’s gifts.
The little man was up early, to ring in the big number six. But mostly, he was up early because PRESENTS!
His dad is the biggest Colorado Avalanche fan that the team has. Thing 2 loves hockey, and he likes wearing his Avalanche jersey, but what he really likes (once he heard about them) is the Nashville Predators.
And somehow, Hubs is okay with this, as he came through with a Nashville T-shirt for Thing 2’s birthday this year.
At church, some of the kids have Prayer Pals. A Prayer Pal is an adult who commits to praying for a specific kiddo, and we were BLESSED, BLESSED, OH HOW BLESSED with a Prayer Pal for our little Thing 2. Miss Lisa prays her heart out for him. She calls and checks on him. She loves on him dearly. And we love Miss Lisa dearly.
And… she buys him Lucky Charms cereal because she knows it’s his favorite. For his birthday, she bought him THE BIG BOX. The family-sized box. And Thing 2 rejoiced, because Lucky Charms are GLUTEN-FREE!!
Our cute neighbor boy has an even cuter girlfriend. She’s just a senior in high school, but she already has her own cake decorating business, because she’s a go-getter who knows where her spiritual gifts are.
And those spiritual gifts of hers are in CAKE DECORATING!
Do you know what Thing 2 requested for his birthday? He asked for a robot cake. And I asked for it to be gluten-free AND dairy-free, which is a BIG STRUGGLING ORDER for bakers, because they have to buy the special flour and the almond milk, but this little gal came through like crazy for us!
This incredible cake was gluten-free AND dairy-free… and it tasted like baby angels had baked it. It was, by far, the best cake we’ve had.
But I did feel EXTREMELY GUILTY cutting it apart. I had to work up some courage to slice it with a big knife.
Thing 2 also requested homemade spaghetti over gluten-free noodles for his birthday dinner at home. Spaghetti is his favorite! Grammy and Papa came over with more gifts, and we all slurped noodles and celebrated our precious six year old.
The family baby is SIX. Even if his mama can’t believe it.