A Love Letter from Civilization

A note: my DH is away for a week, a whole long week, without any form of communication available to him, or me with him, for that matter. He's up in the high high mountains of Washington with some people that he likes a whole lot, so that makes it a little easier! Nevertheless, I've decided to keep him abreast of this week's madness (and find an outlet for my daily happenings since he won't be coming home/calling in to chat). They might be a little long-winded but that's about how I get at this time of night and I can't call my sister (which is what he usually tells me to do) because she is sleeping in that Eastern time zone of hers.

Dear DH - It's our anniversary month! 9 years. Nutso. You've already been gone for 24 hours. It's a quiet Sunday evening. The air has cooled, the kids are sleeping (and will hopefully stay that way for many many hours), and my sister, K, just left. She came over for dinner tonight. I'm glad she lives close. It reminded me of the good, ol' Orem days. Siblings descended on our home on Sunday evenings. They brought friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, roommates. We cooked, fed, and laughed with them. Then they took our leftovers and went back to their weekly lives. And we to ours. Good times.

This morning, Miss M started her day at 6:45. It was early. I think she's getting a new tooth on the top. She didn't eat/drink/act very well today (except for the 2 1/2 hr nap she took in the AM, but that didn't make up for the 1 1/2 hr one she took this afternoon after church - boo). I'm sure you won't be shocked to hear that we were a few minutes late for church. I couldn't handle those metal chairs in the back, though, so we "positioned" ourselves on the last padded row bench where some couple didn't like that we were there and would NOT move down (they had room to move). Oh well. Miss M only grabbed at her skirt with her graham cracker/pretzel/grape-covered hands a few times. Not going to lose sleep over it.

We missed you during the 2nd hour of church when you have a magical way of making Miss M sleep. She would have nothing to do with that while I tried to rock her in a dark room. She must know that you're much more strict with her than I.

Seamons Sacred Naptime wasn't so sacred today, unfortunately. The neighbor's wind chimes would NOT stop. I'm sure they sound lovely at some beach house as you look out at the crashing waves and feel the ocean breeze. Not so lovely starting out at the running trail and hot summer afternoon. My sister thinks I should just go steal them in the middle of the night. I admit that, for one second I was tempted. Ok, maybe like a minute. Fine, am still thinking about it. They were THAT annoying. I might have slept for 20 minutes. Not sure. You know that sleep that borders on sleep, but you don't even feel like you did sleep and not enough time passed to make it seem like it?

Maybe when you get back you can take care of the wind chimes. Or, the heat. I hope it's a lot cooler in those mountains where you are and that you actually have to open your sleeping bag and get inside of it. Are you seeing any shooting stars? Those are my favorite. I remember fondly our nights watching shooting stars on the beaches of the Outer Banks. That was a long time ago!

Tonight after dinner, we all went for a Sunday walk on the trail. Miss M didn't make a peep. She just watched the bunny rabbits skip around, the bugs fly from bush to bush, and the bikers blazing by. It was just what she needed to wind down. Mr. A ate his Firecracker popsicle. It melted a little, but K and I helped him out when it got too runny.

We came home and Miss M went to la-la land. She needed it. K and I took Mr. A across the way and let him get some wiggles out on the monkey bars and play with his friend, Charlie (ps - does Charlie have a parent? She's 3 and I have NOT ONCE seen her with adult supervision there - am I just paranoid?).

Scariest moment of the day: I had put Mr. A to bed (story, song, prayers, the works) and promised him a popsicle for staying in his bed (since we've struggled with it as of late) and going to sleep. Next thing I hear is inaudible talking from his room. We go upstairs and he is LEANING out the window (he has pushed the screen out), talking to some punk 10 yr olds on their bikes enticing him to come OUT of the window and come down to play. Are you kidding me? I shut that window faster than the rabbit ran off when Mr. A "roared" at him today (he must have gotten his animals a little mixed up), scolded Mr. A, told him how badly he could have hurt himself (if not died), shut his door, and my Mama Bear kicked in.

I walked shoeless out of our front door and started hunting for those bikers. I found them. At the end of the next street over. "Hey, guys!" I yelled. They didn't stop. I walked faster. "Guys!" They turned around and started biking toward me (not stopping, though). "Were you talking to that little boy in the window back there?" One looks at me dumbfounded, "No, what are you talking about?" Cue growl. "Actually, I saw you talking to that little boy who was hanging out of the window screen back there." He keeps riding, "Well, he was already at the window." And now you lied. "Yes, I know he was at the window and should not have been, but that does not mean that you tell a THREE year old to climb OUT of that window and come down. He could have died." Standing on all fours (if I had them). "Oh."

I see a parent of one of the boys and he says to me, "He was already at that window." Hairs standing on my neck. "Yes, I know he was and he was in the wrong, but that doesn't make it right for your boys to tell him to climb out of the window and jump down to them to play. He's THREE. And, regardless of age, you don't coax people out of 2nd story windows to jump to what will for sure be an unpleasant outcome." Dad to me, "You're right."

I know. And that's why I then walked away. But, just so you know, DH, the fan won't be in Mr. A's window anymore. I don't care how hot his room gets. We cannot open that window with the broken screen. It's only cement below. And, I'll try to help Mr. A remember this moment in the future so that 7 years from now he's not one of "those" boys.

I'm glad I didn't have to try to track you down in those high high mountains of yours. Good luck hiking 10 tomorrow. I'll be thinking of you and willing you up those steep steep hills.

Biggie biggie kisses. Love you, Me.