This one's for you, Peter Skeever

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On Tuesday of this week, our Crazy Uncle Pete (as is he affectionately called around here) was hit by a car while riding his bicycle to work. He went flying, landed on his head, and was knocked unconscious. The woman who hit him got out of her car, shrieked, and promptly drove away.

Yes, leaving him injured, unconscious, and alone. Not even sure if she had left him alive.

Thank heavens some witnesses to the accident called the ambulance, and Pete was rushed to a nearby hospital. He suffered a broken neck, broken back, sprained ankle, beat up face, and broken front tooth. He is not paralyzed, but will be recovering for MONTHS.

The person who did this has yet to come forward and own up to it.

Instead of focusing on the blinding rage I feel when I think about her cowardice, I am channeling my energy to well wishes for Pete and a little reminder for all you. My friends, when he landed on his head, his helmet split in two. Had he not been wearing one, well, I can't really even bring myself to think about what might have been.

The helmet literally. saved. his. life.

Please, please, please, wear your helmets. Make your kids wear their helmets. It only takes a minute, and can mean the different between being here today and not being here tomorrow. As a mother who has gotten a little lax herself when it comes to this, I can tell you, we will not be making that mistake again.

And hang in there, Pete. We're all praying for you here.

We heart these Idaho spuds of ours

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Hello? Hello? Is there anybody out there?

Yeah, yeah, I know. Pink Floyd, I am not. But I am back and I've got lots to share with you.

Last week, we spent a lovely few days with this beautiful family:


My brother, Craig, and his family came for a little visit. His wife, Laura, is the sister I never got and always wanted. I LOVE her to pieces. She totally gets me. We stayed up until the wee hours chatting, pontificating, You Tubing, and cookie dough eating. Pretty much my four favorite things EVER.

We also took them to some of our favorite St. Louis sites. Like the new Five Guys restaurant, (which we love!), and which really isn't helping me any with the matter of my chubby thighs. They fell in love with it, too. And there's nothing like traveling all the way from Rexburg, Idaho to eat potatoes that are brought in from, yep, Rexburg, Idaho.

Only here in Missouri, we don't actually know how to spell "Rexburg," as you can see.

My children begged and pleaded to be kept home from school, and, good mother that I am, I used that as leverage to get them to do my bidding for an entire day. Nothing like a little motivation, eh?

Heh, heh. Suckers.

Of course, in the end, I let them stay home from school, and we had a blast at the science museum, the zoo, the park, and terrorizing the old people in our neighborhood.





Please come back soon, you Idaho spuds. It was so fun hanging out with you guys.

Plus, I could really use some leverage over these children around here. They seem to have lost their desire to do my bidding.

Stinkers.

Too tired to come up with a clever title

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I am stopping my slightly manic cleaning frenzy to log on here and let you know that I may be absent from the blogosphere for the next few days. We have family coming to town (who we are absolutely excited to see) and, after two days of scrubbing every surface in our home, I think I am nearly ready for them.

Hope you all had a fabulous Easter and are not hungover on chocolate like I am. Curse those blasted Reeses peanut butter eggs.

Anyhoo, I promise to return later this week with stories and blogging galore.

Or at least a post or two.

Happy Monday, peeps.

Double your pleasure, double your fun

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Last night, after I had leisurely indulged in a not-so-classic (or classy) book, which name I cannot divulge here due to the shame I'd feel if you knew I was reading it, I treated myself to a little bit of bad TV.

I mean, a girl can only work so hard in her life, right?

Shut up.

So, I'm lying in bed, falling asleep to some trashy TV, and I notice suddenly that the people on the television screen have four eyes and two heads. Yes, each. So, I sit up and adjust my glasses, thinking things would straighten themselves out.

They didn't. I was seeing two of everything.

I started to panic. My not-so-logical tendency is to assume it's the worst case scenario and jump to extremely unlikely conclusions. Like that I was having a stroke or a heart attack. Or I have a brain tumor. Maybe it's early onset dementia. Or Alzheimer's. And, oh my gosh, what if it's urinary incontence and E.D.?

Okay, maybe not that last one.

That'd be one for the medical journals, eh?

But I did panic. Here it was, ten o'clock at night, the Husband is out of town, and my children are blissfully sleeping. Totally unaware that their beloved wife and mother is probably dying of a stroke. Within minutes, I was all choked up, had planned my own funeral, and mourned the loss of myself and my unfulfilled life. You know, before I had actually come close to dying or anything.

Thankfully, it wasn't a stroke, and I sit here perfectly whole this morning, except for the killer headache I've got. It leads me to think that my double vision is most likely due to a migraine headache, which I have had before, just never with the double vision. Usually, I get the sparkling, twinkly lights before a migraine. I've been to a neurologist and do have migraine medication, but I did not think to take it last night. I figured it was wrong to treat my stroke/E.D. with Frova.

I might be a misdiagnosing psycho, but I am always cautious about my pharmaceuticals.

So now I have spent all morning Dr. Googling, and I have almost convinced myself that it is not actually a brain tumor. I now must call upon you, oh wise Internet self-diagnosing doctors. Have any of you had double vision with migraines? If so, what do you do?

Help. Please don't leave me alone here with my Dr. Google.

Bliss

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I am startled out of sleep by the loud, merciless beeps. It is chilly this morning, and the tiny warm body in my bed is snuggled up close, stealing my body heat. I smile at her tangled mass of hair and wonder how she makes that perfect rock star hair in her sleep. I sigh and hit the snooze button at least three times before I can force myself out from under the warm covers.

I strip down and stand on the scale. I smile, for today it has been kind to me. I pull on the workout gear and slip into my pink, fuzzy slippers. I plod down the hall to wake the boys. As usual, they are already up. Up, at the crack of dawn.

Just like their father.

I chuckle and shake my head in awe, not comprehending how it is they manage to wake so early every day. And do it so cheerfully, too.

At breakfast, their sleepy faces start to light up as they speculate about the upcoming day. I take the morning poll and find out who is bringing and who is buying. I can almost always predict this, even without asking. Today they all surprise me and want to bring.

I suspect it has something to do with the pan of brownies on the counter.

I do dishes. I pack lunches. I blow dry the now smooth and very un-rock star-like hair. I smile and listen as she chatters on about every boy and girl in her class. I love her endless chatter, and silently wonder if everyone is lucky as I am.

I tie shoes. I zip backpacks. I look over and notice that both boys have a peanut butter smile on their cheeks. I laugh and send them in for a wash. I wipe counters. I sweep floors. I give hugs. I give kisses. I miss them already.

I stand at the door and wave. I watch the big, yellow bus take them from me, as it does each morning. I pray in my heart for their safety and happiness, as I do hundreds of times a day.

I sigh, content.

And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.