Craziness Continued: At Least They Are Wearing Helmets....

ER Co-Pay, $75.

Yards and yards of driveway concrete, poured in a slight decline, $12,000.

The Boyz trying everything head-first, yet remembering to put on helmets, Priceless.

I worked this weekend, so I missed out on a lot of fun, and a life changing revelation. While I was chatting with Daveskins, on my break yesterday, he casually mentioned that there was a good chance he and the Fam would be down to see me. Since they usually don't drop in for a visit at the E.R., I figured the Boyz had not lost their enthusiasm for our newly poured driveway, and their insistence for all things wheeled and dangerous. I was right. The Boyz are totally obsessed with anything they can ride. I had to intervene at my Gram's house the other day when they found my Grandpa's rickety old wheelchair and were surfing down her handicapped ramp on it. I also stepped in when they had Em loaded into the back of the Tonka truck, ready to shove her down the driveway. She was really T.O'd at me, apparently I had missed her first two trips down the hill which were painfully fun. I asked Dave to at least get some pictures in order to corroborate our story, and account for the 'multiple bruises in various stages of healing'.

Dave then went on to thrill me with a re-count of their morning at church. We had a special Stake-Conference yesterday, so I asked him if there were any important proclamations I had missed. According to Daveskins, although he couldn't recall the exact wording, the only big ticket announcement came, about us womenfolk needing to "give it up" 4 or 5 times per day, and something about meeting our husbands at the door, in the buff, with their slippers and some fresh homemade bread. Whew! I guess if it doesn't involve arsenic Kool-Aid, I'm game. Unfortunately, he then took it into the 'now I know you're lying' realm, when he said that a lady at church, also gave him kudos, on his incredibly reverent children. There's really only so much bull I can take.

This morning after the usual bus scramble, I decided that it was time to register my little commuter car. My tags are only 5 months expired, but Dave has been bugging me, and it has been awhile since I have had any encounters with the PoPo, so I am probably due. I had already geared myself up for a morning at the DMV, when I noticed the damn thing needed a safety inspection. My windshield has a ginormous crack spanning the entire glass, so I knew it would never pass. I called Dave to complain about my hard life, and he suggested wearing a low cut shirt, and taking it up to our local full-service station. That plan might have worked three children ago, but it would take a deeeeeeep v-neck to see any cleavage these days.

I dressed as provocatively as I dared with Dyl and Emma in tow. A cotton t-shirt and some knee-length shorts, which may not sound sexy, but I had only worn them 1 day in a row and they still smelled okay so, sexy...yes. When I got to the station, I draped myself in the doorway and drummed up my sexiest Norwegian porn star voice and asked, "Do you have time for a safety inspection?" It came across deeper than I had planned, and sounded a little Tranny, but 25 minutes later, I had the golden ticket, and was on my way.

We aborted our plan for the DMV since I had used all my morning energy and sexpot-ness, and headed to the park. Dyl was pumped after mastering the curvy monkey bars and the fireman pole, and we sent him off to school right on time, and happy.

The rest of my day was a wicked success, including a nap, homemade dinner of baby reds flavored with home grown rosemary (Dawson nursed my dead herbs back to life), Family Home Evening/aka Wii Bowling with an opening prayer and song, kids in bed at 7:45, and me getting to spend the rest of the evening chit chatting with my love, in my sexiest Norwegian-porn-star-tranny voice.