(More than) Fourinarow.net

I feel like it’s been a year since I last posted. And, it hasn’t been for lack of material. It’s just that the past week was spring break (a.k.a. Torture Your Mother Week). The kids have been out of sync and there hasn’t been much time for blogging. Also, I had to finish reading The Time Traveler’s Wife. It was good. Different, but good. I feel so…. literate, branching out from my normal crime/law fiction genre.

On to other things…

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I want to dedicate the following post to my sister, Caroline. She can’t have all the poop glory.

The other afternoon, we took the kids to The Blue Park. (We call it The Blue Park because… you guessed it! All the play equipment is blue.)  As soon as we arrived, the kids leaped from the van and took off toward the equipment.  There were some other kids there and one immediately engaged Maria in conversation.  However, after a minute or so, Maria told us she’d be right back and started heading away from the playground.

“Where are you going?” I asked her.

“To find a tree,” she said.

Now, I know she’s one girl in a family full of boys, but come on!

“A tree?  Why?” I asked.

“I need to dance for a little bit,” was her reply.

Dance = I need to poop, but don’t want to, so I’m going to dance around and try to prevent it from happening.  Sometimes this is successful.  Other times it is not.

Dan wandered over and I pointed out Maria’s “dancing” behind a big tree.  He grinned and commented that he thought it was kind of funny.

“You’re not going to think it’s funny if she has an accident,” I said.

We all continued to play and I occasionally cast glances in Maria’s direction.  I told Dan we’d probably have to leave soon, as she was still dancing.  He went to check on her.

And found her with her pants down.  In the process of pooping.  Pee all over her jeans.

At a loss, Dan pulled her pants back up mid-poop and walked her (as best she could walk) to the van.  We put a towel down in her seat, loaded everyone up and came home so she could finish the job in the proper manner.

Did I mention the park is just 5 minutes from home?  Oh, and there are bathrooms at the park.  Why Maria chose not to use the facilities before leaving home or use those available at the park is anyone’s guess.   Believe you me… if we ever go camping and that girl balks at having to do her business in the woods, I’m going to bring up this little episode.

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I’m pretty sure my last post was a whoohooo about us getting to stay put.  You may disregard.  I posted too soon.  The “official” word now is that there will be a 45-day delay regarding all transfers.  Forty-five @#$#@!! days.  There may be more delays to follow.  There may not.  We may have to move.  We may not.  We may have to move in a few months.  We may have to move in a year.

IT WOULD JUST BE NICE TO KNOW.  You know?

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We ran some errands after church this morning.  The first stop was a book store.

I know.  We have four kids.

BUT!  This book store has a train table!!!  I issued the kids a warning that there was to be no fighting, screaming, loud voices, etc.  Play nicely or you leave the store immediately.  No warnings.

I watched the kids while Dan wondered off after coffee.  He returned, we swapped out and I started browsing.  It wasn’t long before I could hear my children from several stacks away.  They got louder.  And louder.  And… well, you get the picture.  I heard Dan announce to them that it was time to go to the car.  I stayed where I was, still looking for a specific book.  I tried to hurry, wishing I had more time.  I asked for help and got it (but not really), made my purchases and left the store.

I looked around the parking lot.  No sign of the crew anywhere.  I called Dan’s cell.  Voicemail.  Called again.  Voicemail.  Called again.  Voicemail.  I finally gave up, knowing that his cell was probably still on silent after having been in mass that morning.  I re-entered the bookstore.  I browsed some more, but not happily, as I knew Dan was probably grumpy.  Finally, I got a call.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“White Castle,” he replied.

“Oh.  Haha.  You wouldn’t dare,” I said.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he said.

Dan showed up a few minutes later and had, in fact, been to White Castle.  YUCK.  YUCK, YUCK, YUCK!!!  That is the most disgusting place ever.  And he and my kids were eating it in my van!!!!  My kids stunk.  My husband stunk.  My van stunk.  I sprayed Febreeze all the way home — to no avail.

And do you know WHY he did it?  I mean, Dan knows I hate that place and find it disgusting.  He told me long ago that he’d stay away for my sake.  Get this: he went there to get REVENGE!  He swears he called me five different times when he was taking the kids out of the bookstore and I didn’t answer.   He said each time he called he got my voicemail right away.  That tells me the cell service inside the store was bad.  It told him I was purposefully dumping him into voicemail.

He got the nastiest revenge ever on me and I didn’t even deserve it!

YUCK.

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We reached the 100,000 mile mark on our van today.  (Without the White Castle, no doubt it would have been a much more pleasant celebration.)

Here’s to 200,000 more miles!