United Disaster

          So, I was minding my own business, herding my children to the car in the United Parking lot when an alarming sight caught my eye: a man who was probably in his seventies was putting his cart back up after unloading his groceries, and as he turned to walk back to his car after putting the cart up, he tripped over the wheel of the cart.  He stumbled pretty hard before falling even harder and I gasped, “Oh my goodness!” and instructed my children to get off to the side of the road and ran over to help the feller.  He was having trouble getting up and I was figuring he probably had a broken hip or something.  When I got to him I got down on my knees and was in such a hurry to get on his level and inspect him that I busted my left kneecap on the road.  I asked him frantically, “Hey, are you alright?  Can you move?  Does anything hurt?”

“My pride’s a little busted,” he said as I helped him into a sitting position.  By then others were coming over the help and at the site of his scraped forearms and how he was shaking I started crying.  I was helped him stand up as others asked if he was OK and when he was on his feet steadily again he handed me a hankie.

“I’m OK, no need for all that,” he said and I thanked him for the hankie, “I’m not hurt at all,” he told the ladies who were fussing over him, “if that’s what it takes to get a bunch of pretty girls to fuss over me I should fall down more often.”  I blew my nose in his hankie and then wondered if I should have done that.  I doubted he wanted a snotty hankie back.  His wife might want to know what on earth he’d been up to if he came home with a make-up smeared, snotty hankie.  I kind of held it in a position where he could snatch it back if he wanted but he seemed in a pretty big hurry to get out of there.  I think he was embarrassed.  I was horrified that his arm was bleeding and felt like I shouldn’t let him leave without helping him but he assured me he had a wife who would doctor him.  Then he pointed to my bleeding knee and said I needed to take care of my own self.  I’ve had plenty of battle scars in my day but this was my first one obtained during a rescue mission.  He went to his vehicle and I went to my own vehicle.  Then with a start, I realized I was forgetting my children and went back to retrieve them.  I apologized for nearly forgetting them in public and Makayla was horrified that the man had fallen and that my knee was bleeding.

“Mommy, was he hurt?  Is he going to the doctor?  Does your knee hurt?” she asked.

“He was more embarrassed than anything, I think,” I said, “And my knee doesn’t hurt at all.”

“That man could have kidnapped you mommy,” Caleb said, “I thought he was going to kill you.  I would beat him up if he to.”

“Bubba, that old man wasn’t going to kill Mommy,” Makayla mused, “Did you see how old he was?  He could barely even walk.  And when he did walk he fell down.  Mommy was just helping him because he couldn’t get up.  No one could kidnap mommy anyway.  Look how big she is.”

I gave her a look and said, “No one is going to get kidnapped, the man is fine, and I’m sorry y’all were scared.  Sheesh.  Let’s go home.”

And that is what happened last night.

Update on...Stuff!

Aaaahhh, the wonderful world of blogging.  I have neglected informing various friends and family what I’ve been up to through this blog.  I typically update everyone through frantic text messages in the middle of whatever catastrophe I’ve managed to get myself into.  It’s time for a regular blog update though and I will try to keep up with this thing a little better. 

Pregnancy Update:  Max was born August 28, 2012 and weighed seven pounds and fourteen ounces.  His birth was very smooth and I went home less than seven hours later.  When he was a few hours old his mom was feeding him and he began turning very blue.  He was rushed to the NICU and that was very scary.  His mom and dad rushed to the NICU with all the nurses and Max and I sat in the hospital bed trembling and crying, thinking they were going to come back and tell me he was dead.  I won’t get into the specifics of the story because I figure since he has been adopted, it’s not really appropriate for me to tell personal details about all this but long story short, he was fine, just had some trouble with his sucking reflex and breathing while swallowing.  He is totally precious.  Makayla and Caleb think he’s so cute and Caleb especially liked holding him.  The adoption is open so there will be many more updates on Max to come.  I spoke with his mother yesterday and she said he is a bottomless pit. 

Children Update:  These children of mine are larger than life and amazing as they have always been.  Makayla just started second grade and Caleb just started kindergarten.  Makayla has always loved school and she was excited to go to second grade.  Caleb told me all summer he wasn’t going to kindergarten unless I went with him and stayed all day so naturally I was worried sick when he did start.  Luckily the second he entered the kindergarten room, he saw all the other kids and his very own desk and didn’t even remember I was there.  Now every day when he comes home from school he says he wishes he could just go back to school once we get home.  Kind of hurts my feelings but I’m glad he likes school so much.  Both of the kids are determined to go to Midnight Madness in May.  Caleb has to read 200 AR books and pass the tests on them to go and Makayla has to read 100,000 words to go.  They’re both working hard already.  Well, for Makayla it isn’t really hard work; she loves to read anyway.  Caleb isn’t as big of a fan but if I sit with him then he does OK.  He really wants to do Midnight Madness with Makayla so that’s what his little mind is on.  They’ve both made some good friends here in Abilene both at school and in the neighborhood.  I’m working on my unholy fear that they will be snatched by a child predator and have recently began letting them play outside while I sit on the porch.  Typically in the past I would have followed them everywhere on foot.  Now, as long as I can see them playing in the green belt across the street, I don’t run after them.  Caleb has started playing football with the neighborhood boys and Makayla and the girls climb trees and play chase or just sit on the grass and watch their brothers.  I like that the kids are playing with other kids and playing outside. 

Love Life Update:  I’m becoming highly suspicious that the future Mr. Hallford is avoiding me because I haven’t found him yet though I’ve encountered plenty of yahoos that will make me appreciate him when he finally decides to reveal himself.

Since I became pregnant with Max, I moved to Abilene and got much more focused on the kids and settling down.  Running around Lubbock like a feral animal with all my friends was fun and I made some amazing memories but I’m ready for a calmer, more family oriented way of life.  It took me a couple of years to outgrow the constant running around but now that I have, I am glad for those fun years but ready for a new kind of fun.  I’m totally bored with dating superficial yahoos, going out to party, hanging out with people who mostly just annoy me.  I’m pretty into hanging out with the kiddos, doing my school stuff, and making sure our lives are simple and happy.  I still get into catastrophes but they aren’t as ridiculous as before; mostly just outrageous speeding tickets and getting in trouble at the library for spilling my soda.  I plan on keeping up with this silly blog a little better and hopefully someday I will be writing about the power and wealth I have stumbled into.  Deuces!

The First Argument

So I was minding my own business, eating my supper when Makayla announced her hot sauce was spicy.  Since hot sauce tends to be spicy I didn’t say anything other than, “Mhhmm.”  I was distracted, eager to get back to my Hunger Games book and wishing everyone would hurry up and finish so I could abandon them for my own selfish indulgences.  Micah, being a far more insightful human being when it comes to responding to the random vices of children, told Makayla that her taste buds tasted the spicy and went on to explain some totally false reason as to why people feel “spicy” in their mouths.  I was busy clearing the table and let him finish and then said, “Well, it feels like taste but really spicy isn’t a flavor.  It’s a chemical reaction; your brain recognizing pain receptors.”

“Spicy IS a taste,” Micah said, “you think your taste buds don’t know what spicy is?”  I am not one who likes to be contradicted when contradicting someone.  It irritated me that he didn’t just say something like, “Oh, I didn’t know that.  You’re a genius.”

“Do your genitals have taste buds?” I asked him and went on to explain that if we rubbed jalapeno juice all over his pecker it would burn.  “Does your nose have taste buds?  Shove something spicy up there and it burns.  You can maybe taste the pepper itself but spicy isn’t taste.  It has nothing to do with taste buds.”

We went back and forth for a while before I decided this wasn’t going anywhere and sweetly said, “Sweetie, you’re right.  I’m not going to argue over whether or not spicy is a flavor or not.”

“Oh no,” he said, “you come in and say “that’s not right” after I say something.  I’m going to go look it up on the computer.”

My mouth dropped open and my temper made me grit my teeth because his “that’s not right” comment was said in a mock girly voice and I felt like he wasn’t portraying me correctly at all.  First, I don’t have such a heavy country accent.  Second, I didn’t at all say that wasn’t right.  Not in those words.

“I politely let you know you were explaining something scientific incorrectly to a kid,” I said, “I would like her to not have false ideas on things.”

“You’ll see,” he said as he went off to his computer.  I got started cleaning the kitchen, fuming.  I wanted to break a plate over his head or even better, shove a jalapeno up his butt.  I know for a fact spicy isn’t a “flavor.”  I have no sense of smell; I was born with this genetic defect.  Because of that I can’t really taste much of anything.  Because of the mountains of research I have done and doctors I have seen, I KNOW what I’m talking about when it comes to things like this.  Because I can “taste” spicy things I’ve done mountains of research on it and learned it’s because it isn’t a taste at all, but pain receptors from the chemical reaction of whatever spicy pepper I’m eating.  I hate being told I’m wrong when I’m right but realized this particular battle was foolish.  He came back into the kitchen and I figured arguing wouldn’t accomplish anything since apparently the love of my life has a skull thicker than old school Star Jones.  Feeling stupid for getting so worked up over something so stupid, I gave him a hug and said, “Sweetie it doesn’t matter who is right.  It’s just talk about spicy stuff.  I love you.”

“Well we’re both right,” he said, “spicy is a taste AND a chemical reaction.”

I unlocked my arms from around him, took a step back and said, “It is NOT!  What biased retarded site did you go to be told that?  Spicy is NOT A FREAKING FLAVOR!”

“I asked an internet doctor,” he said calmly.  He seemed amused which was infuriating me more because in my mind, being told repeatedly I was wrong when I know I’m right, especially by some idiot “internet doctor” was just too much.

“YOU DID NOT!” I shrieked. 

“We’re both right sweetie,” he said, “No one can be right all the time.”

I wanted to rip his face off.  Kick him in the knees.  Dunk his head in my dish water.  But I just said, “OK sweetie.  Believe some quack on the internet over me.”

He made a jab about my “education,” bringing up yet again my alleged brainwarshing from liberal professors, a jab he stole from my grandpa.

“That has NOTHING to do with this and I haven’t been brainWASHED by anyone.  I form my own ideas but spicy being a non-flavor is a freaking FACT, Micah, and since it’s a FACT, no one brainWASHED me into believing some insane theory.  Biologically it can be PROVEN.”

“Not by what I read on the internet,” he said.

I heard myself make some scream/shriek noise and decided to just ignore him.  He was clearly having a good time with this and I was starting to feel dumb for getting so mad.  But for the next two days I researched and researched for him, printing off pages, highlighting key points, and citing sources.  All my spare time was devoted to compiling a book of every source I could get proving I was right about the argument.  I figured he’d feel like a dumbass and was excited to present him with my information.  He called earlier and I was too excited to keep quiet.

“I’ve been getting lots of information for you that proves I’m right on the whole spicy argument and I expect a very big apology from you,” I told him.

“I know you’re right on that babe,” he said, “I was just picking on you.”

“You’re just trying to get out of being proven wrong now that I have proof on my side,” I told him, “You can’t sweet talk your way out of this.  You even looked online and found lies to support your idea.”

“I wasn’t even looking at anything about that,” he said, “When I went on the computer I was looking at a tractor.”

I envisioned two explosive balls of fire shooting out of my ears and felt like a freak to have spent so much time proving him wrong when he hadn’t even really been participating in the argument.  He claimed he just liked pushing my buttons and said it was fun to get me all worked up.  I plan on introducing a new hobby to him very soon in the future, pottery making maybe, since he feels harassing me in his free time is acceptable.  After we hung up I sat down to lunch, still fuming and recounted the whole thing to my grandpa.  He listened thoughtfully while grandma advised I just totally ignore my beloved the next time he started being obnoxious.  Grandpa cleared his throat, an indication he had something to say.  I looked at him to acknowledge I was ready to listen and he said, “What kind of tractor was he looking at?”