We took the usual family pictures.

You know, the photos where they’re all sitting pretty and smiling sweetly?

It makes their Momma so proud.  Yeah okay…let’s go to school.

And then I slipped down our porch steps on the way out [...]]]> First day of school today went a little somethin’ like this…

We took the usual family pictures.

You know, the photos where they’re all sitting pretty and smiling sweetly?

It makes their Momma so proud.  Yeah okay…let’s go to school.

And then I slipped down our porch steps on the way out the door.I will be sporting some lovely bruises from my shoulder to my knee and let’s not forget the bloody thumbnail which kept me in touch with my pulse rate the rest of the day, dear God….the throbbing.  Why do finger injuries always hurt so darn much?  My husband had a hard time asking me if I was okay through his laughter.  Did I not mention it took me at least 45 minutes to end the fall?  I’m exaggerating of course, but you know what I mean, right?  No.  You don’t?  Okay, well for those of you that haven’t spent a lifetime falling up and down stairs, let me tell you.  This was one of those falls that I spent three steps slipping and nearly recovering before actually succumbing to the fall which then scooted me half way off the step just missing the giant planter with the iron cone thing that could have made me into a human shishkabob.  When I got to the van my daughter was laughing at me and I was just moaning because…my thumb…ow,ow,ow.  She asked me if she wanted me to drive, but I told her, “No, I need to drive to distract myself from the pain.”

And oh, the pain…my heart, it fell out of my chest and bounced across the parking lot taking this baby to Kindergarten.  Clay cries every year when we take the kids to school.  He can’t help it.  It means his kids are growing up.  I usually have to console him, but today I took our youngest, our baby to school.  I had to hug and kiss him really fast so he wouldn’t see me crying.  It’s the first time I’ve cried about one of my children going to school.

And the flood gates were opened.  So, my sweet husband who was also a bit of a mess took me out for breakfast.

This is probably the best breakfast spot in town.  They have French Toast the size of France…I know, I’m so clever.  They also have cute waiters and great coffee and good old boys that sit around drinking that coffee while talking about the price of motors very loudly.

Warm blueberry scone and warm, blue, throbbing thumb…delicious!  When Clay asked me what I was going to do until I had to pick up the infant-tiny-baby-boy from Kindergarten I said I might stop by the hospital to get an MRI of my body to see how many bones I broke falling down those RICKIN’ FRICKIN’ PORCH STEPS!!!  But, other than that…not much.

And to wrap up the morning…I locked my keys in the van.  I know.  I was busy blowing my nose and dabbing tears and searching for change for the parking meter.  So, Clay had to drive me all the way home to get the extra key.  On the way back to town we had a little conversation about how many times he’s had to rescue me in the last three years and I was certain it was more than twelve, “….and would you mind following me to the gas station because the van probably won’t make it and, you know, I don’t want you to come allll the way back and…..rescue me.”  It’s a good thing he loves me.  This was undeniably a painful day.

The problem is, so can everyone else.

This is Man on a Wire by Isaac.  Has anyone else seen that documentary?  It’s fascinating.  This French dude broke through all the security in the newly constructed twin towers back in the 70′s, strung a cable across the roofs and then spent 45 minutes [...]]]>

The problem is, so can everyone else.

This is Man on a Wire by Isaac.  Has anyone else seen that documentary?  It’s fascinating.  This French dude broke through all the security in the newly constructed twin towers back in the 70′s, strung a cable across the roofs and then spent 45 minutes walking around on it.  Who does that sort of thing?  And gets a team of people to help?  Craaaaazay!

When you have an architect for a father this is the sort of graffiti he will leave on your walls.

And he might draw a light switch to try to confuse you.  Seth just so badly needed to put something on the wall, he felt much better after he was able to add his name under his dad’s light switch.

I had to sign my handy work.

Then there was the day that Ellen’s cousin found his way into her room when she wasn’t home.  He had a great time making his mark.

What’s a girl to do when she has walls that beg for graffiti?