My 3-year old daughter raises a finger for each dream. “There’s the puppy dream. The spider dream. The robot dream. And the dream where you were a hoot!”
Every time she says “you were a hoot!” she raises her eyebrows, points at me and emphasizes “hoot,” which makes me want to laugh, except that she is so serious. Apparently, in her dream-life, her mother is a hoot! And “hoot” is the same thing as an “owl.” The nuance between the two is too subtle for me to understand, but I take her word for it. A hoot is scary. And I’m a hoot. You heard it here first.
* * *
I devoted the morning to Vacation Bible School planning. Before I knew it, the boys were home from P.E., so I switched gears and we did some math lessons, followed up by some history. At 2:00 p.m., with some exasperation, I dismissed them for the day. Their brains had shut off but their mouths were still running and they could not stop pinching each other.
So, I resumed my Vacation Bible School ponderings. The theme is “Fiesta!” and I grew distracted by various options for making maracas and tambourines. I spent quite a long time fiddling with paper, folding it accordion-style in attempts to make flowers. (Easier said than done.) I settled on instructions for tissue paper flowers. I’m going to ask people in our church to make a few . . . hundred.
What is remarkable is how a day can slip away while you search for directions to decorate for a fiesta and feed orange segments to a baby and run bath water for your already extra-clean girl.
Oh, and your night will vanish when you watch the season finale of “24.” I realized tonight that Jack has been carrying a Mom Purse all season long. Not that his bag lessens my admiration for a man who can single-handedly save the world in twenty-four hours. It’s because of that purse, I’m telling you. Without his purse and his cell phone, he’d be just another mom man.
Come to think of it, I have a Mom Purse and a cell phone. I bet I could vanquish terrorists, too. Oh wait! I already have . . . until tomorrow.
Sleep tight, kids. Tomorrow, I’ll be waiting for you. (Excuse me while I dig in my purse to find a few things. Now where did I put that taser? And the digital listening device shaped like a pencil eraser? And my fax machine disguised as a playing card?)
Actual Unretouched Photo 
Oh and your GPS that shows you the location of your children at all times!
(hmm..isn’t that just momsense..akin to spidersense?)
My daughter gets rather frustrated with me when I give her an “I don’t know” as an answer to one of her endless queries. Next time I need to just look in my purse! ;-D
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here via mommylife, always reading but not commenting. Until…you mention Jack and his purse. From the very beginning I’m going…who could run with that big old purse hanging off you! And he ALWAYS finds what he needs INSTANTLY without having to feel around, poke his head inside. yeeesh. And a hoodie, too. Please. Now I love Jack, but so many times that hoodie could have snagged on a door handle or something. Ask me how i know.
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Sometimes the mom purse becomes a diaper bag/art tote with diaper ointment and Viridian Green oil paint mingling, side by side.
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Maracas…..2 paper plates stapled together with beans i/s for noise and a wooden stir stick from the paint store (will usually donate)for the handle? Just my .2 cents.
Hoot hoot.
~K!
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My mom purse is leopard print. It is a from Cherish and Joy and I lurv it!
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If you mail me the paper or tell me what paper to get, I’ll make some and ship them to you.
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The church I work at is doing Fiesta too!
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You ARE a hoot! I would have had a hard time not laughing.
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You ARE a hoot.
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Mel – when I was a kid, I used to sit on the toilet and make carnations out of kleenex and bobby pins. I think the principle is the same for fiesta flowers – you know the kind little kids sell to cars at the border of Mexico? They are made of tissue paper and wire or pipe cleaners. Anyway, if you want personal step by step instructions on carnations eau de toilette, you know how to reach me. Remember, I’m your NBF.
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