Nacho Libre

May 20, 2017 By

My friend Cheryl has been a longtime devotee to the 2006 American sports comedy film, Nacho Libre.

If you haven’t seen it, Jack Black plays a character who works as a cook in the Mexican monastery where he grew up. The monastery is home to a host of orphans whom Nacho cares for deeply, but there is not much money to feed them properly. Nacho decides to raise money for the children by moonlighting as a Lucha Libre wrestler with his partner, but since the church forbids Lucha, Nacho must disguise his identity.

I know your life is totally changed from reading that paragraph.

I’m not one for stupid humor and Napoleon Dynamite is one of the few corny cult classics I enjoy but the kids and I decided to watch it one evening and laughed our heads off the whole way through.

Apparently Jamie was remiss to miss out on the fun so he announced to me a few weeks later that he, too had watched Nacho Libre.

“Do you feel like your life has changed?” I asked.

“I now feel equal to you.”

Apparently, we have a very low bar for equality in our household.

 

 

Filed Under: Uncategorized

That time we were featured in the Wall Street Journal

May 17, 2017 By

A few weeks ago my friend Eileen Ogintz, founder of Taking The Kids and a syndicated columnist, emailed to ask if I could put the word out to my friends that a reporter from the Wall Street Journal was looking to interview families who let their kids help plan the vacation. I put the word out on Facebook but nobody responded so I acquiesced to be interviewed by Sue Shellenbarger. I really didn’t think much would come of it–maybe she’d include a quote in her article–until she emailed me again in a panic saying her editor wanted her to interview my kids as well. So on Friday after school, Bode and Hadley casually talked to the a reporter from the biggest newspaper in the United States. No biggie.

If you are questioning the reliability of journalism in this day and age, rest assured the Wall Street Journal is the most fact-checked newspaper I’ve ever seen. For our small quotes in the article, Sue emailed me several times.

Anyway, here’s the link to Dare to Let the Children Plan Your Vacation and I’ll include screenshots and our quotes below.

And yes, Bode totally talks like a 40-year-old man.

 

 

The Johnson family of Denver is planning a car trip to western Colorado this summer. Amber Johnson says her daughter Hadley, 12, persuaded the family to go jet-boating, racing over the Colorado River at speeds of up to 40 miles an hour in boats driven by professionals.

It’s a plan Ms. Johnson and her husband Jamie would never have chosen for the family. But Hadley sees children’s museums as cheesy. “I’m kind of growing up and everything,” Hadley says. “I’m a little more crazy and adventurous than museums.”

Bode, 10, says he was nervous at first about jet-boating. But Ms. Johnson reassured him that the boats have seat belts and life jackets. Now he’s on board with the plan. “I think I might actually learn something, including having a positive attitude and being willing to do new things,” he says.

Giving the children a voice keeps them excited and interested, Ms. Johnson says. It also means suffering through their mistakes. Bode and Hadley picked a hotel online for a road trip last summer because it had a big pool, says Ms. Johnson, editor of Mile High Mamas, an online community. She suggested they might want to do more research, but “they jumped on it because it looked really fun,” Ms. Johnson says.

When they arrived, the pool was closed for renovation. Ms. Johnson sees such “soft failures,” or missteps with minor consequences, as learning experiences. “We would call ahead and do more research” next time, Hadley says.

 


Filed Under: Bode, Family travel, Favorite Posts, Hadley, Utah

The Glories of Rec Soccer

May 10, 2017 By

“If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?”

The same can be asked of if a blogger fails to write about the last several months, does it mean it ever really happened?

I’m long overdue on an updates post that will probably be a compilation of pictures and narratives. We’re in the middle of landscaping hell; Jamie has been living it since we moved in but the real push will be the next couple of months as we finish putting in the sprinkler lines in the backyard and seeding it, sodding the front and planting everything. We ran out of money we’d set aside from the sale of our house last week so we’re scrimping and saving to get at least the basics completed. Oh, the joy!

My intention was to write about Bode’s last soccer game yesterday but then I realized I didn’t even write about the first one! If you’re in fifth grade and above in the Heber Valley and like soccer, you play competitive because recreational soccer only goes through fourth grade, and then 5-7 th graders are co-ed because there aren’t enough players. We missed competitive tryouts for this calendar year and when I tried to sign Bode up for the co-ed league, he was too young so he’s been playing with the fourth graders on the rec team.

The good: He is a very skilled ball handler and a smart player. He’s incredibly strategic and always makes smart passes and is very coachable (his hardcore coach a couple of years ago said he was the one kid on the team who would listen and implement what he instructed). But he has never had the big kicks and scoring ability of the superstars so he’s always been very middle-of-the-pack in the Denver leagues. But playing in a small-town rec league, he’s been one of the strongest players so has had a chance to shine. Plus, playing with the fourth graders, he’s no longer the smallest on the field.

The bad: The level of play is waaaaaay lower than his previous league so he isn’t progressing like he would be if he was in a more challenging situation.

Competitive tryouts are next week and I’ve been vacillating on what to do.  If he was a prodigy and wanted to keep pushing himself, competitive would be the obvious choice. But he’s not. He enjoys playing but isn’t obsessed with it. He could no doubt make the competitive teams here but he would no longer be the superstar, would have way less playing time, we’d be traveling every Saturday, he’d practice several times a week, it’s a full year commitment and it costs a lot more money.

Can you tell I REAAAAALLY don’t want him to be competitive?

I was relieved when he says he’d just like to stick with rec and so next fall, he’ll be playing co-ed with girls. If nothing else, it will be great blog fodder because if the kid can’t string two sentences together to talk to a girl, what will it be like to play with them?

Here are a few pictures to commemorate the season.

Jamie has been bossing people around from the sidelines for many years. It’s about time he made it official. #CoachJamie

I realized during our final game, I hadn’t taken any other pictures so snapped a couple of them. This one was taken of Bode (on the left) moments before he took his worst shot on goal ever.

Fortunately, he later redeemed himself and went on to score three goals, the final one was the most impressive of his soccer career.

And you can’t wrap the season without a shot of Team WhatchaMaCallThem. Unlike in years past when Bode named the name (Angry Piggies was a favorite), these dudes went unnamed.

See our goalie on the back row in yellow? He got Scott Sterling-ed yesterday with the most brutal soccer ball kick to the head that knocked him senseless to the ground.  He was fortunately OK but after the game when Jamie asked him if he was blindsided, he replied, “I saw it coming but I felt like a paper doll and couldn’t move.”

The Paper Dolls. It kind of has a nice ring to it.

Filed Under: Bode, Humor

The Mile High Mamas Miracle

May 8, 2017 By

I was biking home after dropping off my kids at school when my iPhone rang. Little did I know that message would be the makings of The Mile High Mamas Miracle.

Every Mother’s Day, I issue an invitations for Denver moms to tell their story.  One year, it was their own experiences in becoming a mother; for another, it was their favorite mom moments. Last year, I launched a Mother’s Day contest where entrants wrote an essay about their Mom Hero–whether it was their own mother or a peer or someone they admired.  All of the entries were so inspiring and I published 20 of them the week of Mother’s Day.

With so many amazing stories, I knew I wouldn’t be able to choose (plus, I felt I was biased because I knew some of the women who submitted). The Grand Prize winner would receive a day of pampering for two at Allure Skincare and Lash, True Bliss Massage AND Rooted in Tradition Acupuncture so I asked the PR rep of the salon to make the final selection.

She chose Brenda Lane’s My Mom, My Hero, Advocate and Artist.

As a side note, I was in the middle of a very stressful season of my life. We were [unsuccessfully] selling our home, permits were delayed on our new one, I had umpteen end-of-the-year responsibilities–from recitals to graduation parties to assisting at a wedding reception to my daughter’s own birthday bash and Sixth Grade Continuation.

The timing is an important note in this miracle because it was almost two weeks after Mother’s Day when I finally emailed Brenda to let her know she had won.  I didn’t hear back from her. Five days later, I emailed the PR rep to see if she had made contact. She hadn’t so we resolved to call her.

That was before I received the message on that fateful day while riding my bike home. It was from Adriana, Brenda’s partner of 15 years, who requested I call her back because she wanted to to share the beautiful backstory of Brenda winning the grand prize.

The experience that unfolded was the makings of miracles.

Adriana shared that just eight weeks ago, Brenda’s mom Sylvia had been living a busy and happy life as she finished illustrating a children’s book when she experienced some back pain. The next weeks that ensued involved a visit to the ICU, a nursing home, hospital visits and finally, her health had declined so rapidly that it was time to send her home with hospice.

The family was gathered together with her mom on the brink of death when Brenda received my email that she had won the Grand Prize. She didn’t have the strength to tell her mom but it was a hospice worker who said, “Brenda, you have to share this with her. This is your moment.”

So Brenda stood by her Mom’s bed and shared the news that her “Mom Hero” entry had won. Adriana read the essay to her mom in what would become her final lucid moments.  “It was the last gift, the last words Brenda was able to share with Mom,” said Adriana.

Sylvia Lane died four hours later.

“So, I just wanted to thank you for this. This miracle,” Adriana told me during our phone call. “Tomorrow is Sylvia’s service and we will read that essay. This has been the one thing that our family and close friends keep talking about. This was the perfect moment for all of this to happen and has helped us come together as a family.”

Here’s the thing. Our Mother’s Day hero contest wasn’t some big nationwide competition but for this family, it was a touching reminder that by small and simple things, miracles happen.

Filed Under: Uncategorized

Just Two Bananas

May 2, 2017 By

A couple of weeks ago in Relief Society, my friend Katie shared the story “Just Two Bananas” that has made me resolve to do better about befriending those who may have been overlooked or forgotten. You never know the difference a little bit of kindness can make in their lives. 

-Church News – week ending May 21, 1988:

Several years ago a volunteer worker at Welfare Square in Salt Lake City shared a true experience with her associates at a devotional meeting. It is a story worth re-telling in her own words:

“A few years ago while on a trip our family stopped in a small town to visit a friend we had not seen for a long time. As we drove up in front of her home, she was just going out of her gate.

The first thing we noticed about her was that she had two bananas in her hand. We got out of the car and chatted with her for a moment. When I asked her where she was going with two bananas she explained that she had made a fruit salad the day before and had borrowed two bananas from her neighbor and was now on her way to return them. She said she would wait and return them after we left so she could visit with us. At that point, my 6-year-old son said he would be glad to return the bananas. He said he ran errands all the time for me, and would be happy to explain who the bananas came from. My friend was impressed by his eagerness, so she gave him the bananas, pointed out the house, and off he went across the street.

We were in the house visiting when my son came bounding in, and with excitement said to my friend, ‘Hey, that guy said to tell you thanks a lot. He loves bananas.’

My friend looked puzzled, and said ‘He? My friend is a widow and has no husband.’ She thought for a moment and then said, ‘Oh, I’ll bet it was one of her sons. They come to see her often.’

I thought my little boy might have gone to the wrong house, so I asked him to come outside and point out the house where he had taken the bananas. He said he had taken them to the white house with a bush in front of the window.

My friend became rather upset, saying that of all the houses on her street that was the last one she would take anything to. The man who lived there was very repulsive. No one could stand him. His wife and family had left him, and he had lost his job. The only person who ever came to see him was his daughter, and she only came to see him because she felt sorry for him, not because she loved him.

As we walked back into the house, listening to her tell about the man, it seemed to me that he had no redeeming qualities at all. I wondered to myself what he must have thought about suddenly getting two bananas.

We continued to visit when my little boy looked out the window and said to my friend, ‘You know that guy I took the bananas to, well, he’s coming through your gate right now.’

My friend was uttering a few inaudible words when the knock came at the door. She opened the door, and her neighbor stood before her, tears in his eyes, finding it difficult to express himself. He finally was able to thank her for the two bananas, and said he was glad that someone cared enough to think of him. He thought no one even cared about him anymore. He handed her a sack of freshly picked vegetables from his garden and some plums from his tree. He told her that he had not been a good neighbor, but from now on he would try to be better.

About two years later we again dropped by to visit our friend. We told her we couldn’t stay long because it was late in the day and we wanted to set up camp before dark.

My friend begged us to stay and meet her home teacher who was coming by that evening. She said she had the greatest home teacher. ‘You remember that man your little boy took the bananas to? Well he’s my home teacher now and I have never had a better one. The whole direction of his life changed when he thought someone cared about him.

She went on to explain that he had gotten his job back, his wife and family had come back to him, and everyone in the neighborhood liked him. She said she wished he could always be her home teacher, but she was afraid he would be released because two weeks ago he had been sustained as a counselor in the bishopric of their ward.

This touching story reminds us as we keep the second great commandment to love our neighbors as ourselves that even small deeds can produce great results. Even two bananas!”

Filed Under: LDS

What a difference a year makes

April 28, 2017 By

Last week was rough. Though I’m grateful Mile High Mamas continues to be a popular Colorado resource, it’s disheartening to be constantly reminded of what I’m missing. I’ve been working on a Denver summer activity guide and I’m mourning the loss of all my favorite adventures. The event and travel invitations have been flooding in and though we’re visiting Colorado this summer, I’ve had to pass on most opportunities. A friend asked if I miss being the “IT” girl with all-things family and tourism at my fingertips. I definitely do but also don’t feel like that is the path I’m supposed to take here in Utah so it’s frustrating not surging forward like my usual ambitious self.  Plus, I was sick sick sick for a few days and I was in a certifiable funk.

Jamie and I started a healthier regimen and things have really started clicking for me this week as I’ve resolved there are so many things in my life that are out of my control but since our move, I’m finally getting back into a routine of working out and eating better. In just five days, I feel the difference. I’ve never disliked being here…almost immediately I fell in love with this charming valley but there is still so much rebuilding–with our home, personally and my career–that needs to take place.

I’ve been missing my friends so sent a text to my local snowshoeing group to see if anyone would be interested in doing the Dirty Dash 5K with me in June. I had a blast doing the Mudderella and Diva Dash in Colorado and figured it would be swell to train for something, even if I’m still trying to figure out how to do that with two injured knees. At first, I only heard from the women who were out of town that weekend and I started to give up but slowly but surely, the registrations started coming in. And coming.  We’ve had 15 women sign up to be on my team, many of which are going waaaaay out of their comfort zone to do it.

My favorite response was from my friend Julie G. To put this in perspective, as I was building our snowshoeing/outdoorsy mom network here, I asked her if she liked to hike. “If you have any mom’s nights out that involve movies and food, I’m your gal,” she responded.  I was obviously surprised to see her sign up and she later posted, “I’m not sure if I’m excited or terrified. My daughter just reminded me that I don’t run and I don’t get dirty.”

It’s gonna be epic.

My Facebook memory from a year ago today was the very beginning of what would be a hellacious multi-month ordeal in selling our house. 

I sent it to Jamie and he responded: “It made me feel yucky inside to see that.”

We may have a long way to go but I can’t discount how far we’ve come.

 

 

Filed Under: Uncategorized

Off to the Races!

April 24, 2017 By

When Bode turns 11 in July, he will officially enter Boy Scouts which means one thing: he only has one more Pinewood Derby in Cub Scouts. Now to give you perspective, Bode comes from the Mercedes of Pinewood Derby families. Grandpa Duane was renowned throughout Colorado for helping Jamie and his brother Chris build the bestest and the fastest (they even won regionals!) so Jamie has been on the same quest.

For Bode’s first car they did a good job, frequently winning heats but did not come out on top. Last year, they upped their game and his car won every single heat and he somehow only placed second, a big disappointment because he actually beat the winning car in a head-to-head. C’est la vie. That was my attitude at least. I’m sure Jamie would have demanded a race-off it wasn’t a church event.

This was Bode’s last chance for redemption so he and Jamie worked hard building his car. It was a busy evening. Bode had a soccer game (which he missed due to all our conflicts) and while Jamie took the car for the weigh-in, I had the privilege of accompanying Bode to “Maturation Night” at the school. He was only slightly mortified to have his mom attend a talk on puberty and I was slightly more mortified (definitely a lot of testosterone and father-son bonding in the room). Thankfully, the talk ended on a high note when each boy received his very own deodorant because one of the biggest takeaways was BOYS STINK. Literally.

We then raced over to the church for the Pinewood Derby. Check-in and weigh-off was chaotic but our ward did a fantastic job with the actual event with a high-tech computer program that recorded, tabulated and displayed each time on a big screen. Each boy received a “Pit Pass” lanyard where they were granted special access to the race area. Each car would race off against two others with six races total. The winner would have the lowest accumulative time.

Pre-race jitters

It’s tough to know just how fast your car is going to be. “I just hope the wheels stay on,” Jamie muttered but they did more than that. Bode’s black beauty easily won his first heat…and every subsequent one after that.

The Top 3

There was no doubt he had the fastest car in the Pack.  Of course, we thought that last year and he placed second overall but we were relived when he took home the title of Fastest Car. I think I may have seen tears in Jamie’s eyes that the family legacy would continue through Bode. His buddy won “Best in Show for his hilarious Banana-shaped car. When Jamie posted about the victory on Facebook our friend and former Bishop asked “Should the congratulations go to Jamie or Bode?” Jamie’s funny response: “I can honestly say that he did more on this car than in past years. But as a good video on building pinewood derby cards once said. ‘Scout, if you feel like this car isn’t really yours, take comfort that someday you’ll have a son of your own.’” The future pressure is on, Bode.

Filed Under: Bode, Humor, LDS

The real nightmare of showing your kids horror movies

April 23, 2017 By

Them gem was written two years ago and still in the draft folder. 

My kiddos are turning 9 and 11 and both have been begging me to watch scarier movies. After all, they’ve overcome the trauma of the Wizard of Oz’s flying monkeys, so they should be ready for The Shinings of the world. Right? Wrong.

Call me an overprotective mom, but I’m appalled I spent my tween years watching Friday the 13th at sleepovers where we’d freak each other out by pretending to bring Jason–the silent, undead and unstoppable killing machine–to life. I still remember my adrenaline-fueled bike ride home from my friend Avril’s in the dark after watching Children of the Corn, certain that didn’t bike fast enough, I’d become part of that  dangerous religious cult of children who believe everyone over the age of 18 must be killed. Fortunately, I was only 12 so I was safe. OR WAS I?

Related: College Humor’s Horror Movie Daycare is a must-see if you’re a child who grew up watching the horrors films of the ’80s and ’90s.

I’ve kept my kids pretty sheltered so I figured I’d ease them into the scary-movie genre with Watcher in the Woods. This 1980 American horror mystery thriller film may be be produced by Walt Disney Productions but the movie–in particular the mirror scene at the carnival–haunted me for years.

They laughed in my face. “Mom, that wasn’t scary at all.”

I decided to up the ante with Signs. If stalker in the woods didn’t freak them out, maybe Mel Gibson as a fallen Reverend coupled with aliens would.

They were definitely freaked out but I talked them through the deeper meaning of the film. We even had a really in really in-depth spiritual discussion about signs that are around us every day and I thought all was well.

Until I went to bed.

In the middle of the night, I felt something pressed up against me and realized I’d been curled up in a ball. I felt a toussle of long hair. Hadley. Then I heard someone else breathing heavily. I reached over her to find her brother nestled up against her.

I’ll take that as a Sign we’re putting a kibosh on scarier movies for a while.

 

 

Filed Under: Bode, Hadley

Bode’s first race

April 19, 2017 By

Another one from the draft folder, dated Oct. 12, 2015. 

Our elementary school has a cross-country team for grades 4-6. I really wanted my daughter Hadley to join because she’s a talented runner but she was reluctant, citing she’s more of a sprint and middle-distance runner, not long distance.

Fair enough. I’m wisely learning to pick my battle with my tween so made the deal that if she joined, I wouldn’t make her do any of the meets…that she could just do it for the joy of running. I motivated her by promising that her increased fitness and endurance would help her with hiking, something she is passionate about (read about her first 14er she climbed last summer).

Out of nowhere, my son Bode piped up. “I want to join the cross-country team.”

“You know it’s running, right?”

“Yes, I know, Mom.”

Bode is many things but a runner is not one of them. First, he has my side of the family’s build (short and stout), not long and lanky like Hadley from the Johnsons. Second, he jerks his head around like a bobblehead because he thinks it makes him run faster. Third, he’s never shown any interest in running and thinks our longer hikes are downright painful.

To his credit, he has enthusiastically attended all his twice-weekly practices, even during sweltering temperatures. And in typical optimistic Bode fashion, he never complained. Another perk I hadn’t anticipated: he has never been better at soccer. That kid can run faster and for longer, which has increased  his confidence and enthusiasm for the game. It has been a joy to watch him this season.

I kept  my promise to not make my kids actually compete until Bode casually mentioned he wanted to try one of their meets.

“You know it’s running, right?”

“Yes, I know, Mom.”

I picked Bode up early from student council and we tore over to a neighboring school that was hosting. He was delighted that in addition to his own peers, most of his soccer team’s buddies were racing as well.

Denver hadn’t seen rain in what felt like months so, of course, the sky was heavy with dark, drooping clouds. A few raindrops started falling so the organizer made the decision to start the boy’s race a bit early. The 1-mile course covered a series of hills and I quickly lost sight of him.

Enter: the downpour.

And then the hail.

Most of the parents ran for cover but I stubbornly stood out there getting pelted. If my boy was going to run through this weather, I was going to be there to greet him at the finish line.  Besides, if anything, seeking shelter from the hail would just make him fun raster, right?

As Bode rounded the final hill, I shouted, “Run, Forrest, Run!” Of course, he didn’t understand the Forrest Gump reference but I beamed with pride as I watched my “non-runner” run his guts out to the finish line.

Bode was drenched and his skin flaming red from getting pelted by the hail but he was beaming. Out of a field of about 40 boys, he took 12th, narrowing missing the top 10 medals but he didn’t care. His first cross-country race taught me a thing (or 12) about what it  means to be a runner. And it’s not about running.He’d tried something new that was hard for him and he did his very best. For him, that was enough.

Though, unlike Forrest, he unambitiously stopped at the finish line instead of running from coast-to-coast for an additional three years.

Better luck next race.

 

Filed Under: Bode, Uncategorized

Confessions of a (Horrible) Cat and Fish Sitter

April 12, 2017 By

My friend Jana was looking for someone to check in on her cat and fish over Spring Break so I volunteered my middle schooler Hadley. She loves animals and her career aspiration in first grade was to run a Cat Hotel until she later learned it’s not cool to be the crazy cat lady until you’re over 50 years old.

I figured she’d be better equipped to take care of animals since she got off to a rocky start babysitting humans when my friend Sarah asked her:

“Hey, Hadley. Do you babysit?”

“I’m not really good with kids.”

As a former publicist, I was appalled at her pitch.  She later told me she was caught off-guard and meant to say I’m not comfortable taking care of babies. She repented of her trespass by volunteering to watch Sarah’s kids for free while she attended a church event. Hadley limped through the door several hours later.

“How was it?”

“Exhausting. I spent the entire night running around after three boys. How do you do this EVERYDAY?”

And suddenly, the heavens opened and the herald angels sang the Hallelujah shout to the tune of “PAYBACK” for all those sleepless, colicky nights.

As it turns out, she enjoys babysitting (or at least the money she makes) so how much better would a gig be for beasts you don’t have to chase?

Hadley’s responsibilities were simple. Replenish Kitty’s food and water every day, clean the kitty litter box and feed the fish. Jana hadn’t formed an attachment to Fishy and went as far as to say she wouldn’t be sad if he didn’t survive, which made us wonder if we were hired to be fish sitters or assasins. Jana told us we probably wouldn’t even see Kitty who accesses the house via a cat door after partying all night with her feline friends and sleeps all day. Easiest cat-sitting gig ever.

Or was it?

Day 1: Hadley opens garage door, goes about her responsibilities with Kitty. Starts to feed Fishy. He is dead.

Or is he?

We text Jana to ask if we should give him a watery burial. She responds, “He sometimes just looks dead and doesn’t move for a while.”

Cool fish.

Day 2: Fishy appears dead in a different position so we figure he’s still alive in his own way. No sign of Kitty but food has been eaten so we’re in business.

Day 3:  Fishy is moving. It’s an Easter resurrection miracle.

Days 4 and 5: Hadley stays at Grandma’s so I take over duties. All seems in order.

Day 6: Hadley continues her responsibilities. Goes to enter mudroom via the garage but the door is locked, which means we can’t access the house and that I was the person who inadvertently locked it the day before. Panic sets in but fortunately, Kitty’s food and water are in the garage so we can take care of her. Tragically, Fishy will go from resurrection to famine within three days. The irony is not lost on me.

Day 7: When we arrive THE GARAGE DOOR IS ALREADY OPEN. “We closed it when we left yesterday, I’m 100% sure of it,” Hadley wails.

We hesitantly make our way through the garage to the mudroom door, which mysteriously opens. Even though it’s been less than 24 hours since our last visit, Fishy appears really dead this time and is floating on his side at the bottom of the bowl. We feed him anyway because he’s a master manipulator and as we’re attempting to leave the house, we realize the doorknob will not budge and we’re locked inside with a fish who could come to life at any moment.

It takes a few panicked minutes until we position the doorknob just right and we make our escape…but not before I put something in the door jam for the next time we get locked out. Or in. Really, the whole thing is confusing.

I hesitantly text Jana that we were able to get back in the house.

“Oh, our friend needed to grab something today,” she responds. “He probably left the garage door open! I also remembered that mudroom door is sometimes hard to open, so you have to twist the knob really hard.”

Hallelujah shout Take 2.

Day 8: Fishy confirmed dead and Kitty is alive. Allegedly. We didn’t see her all week but she ate all her food. It was probably for the best because we saw Fishy every day and look what happened to him.

Day 9: Jana’s family returns home. Hallelujah shout Take 3 as we are relieved of our pet sitting duties.

When I was relaying the tale of our memorable Spring Break to my son Bode, I joked, “Don’t you want to be a pet sitter?”

“I think I could have done a better job than you and Hadley,” he retorted.

The [low] bar has been set.

P.S. Did I mentioned we’re available for hire?

Filed Under: Favorite Posts, Hadley, Humor, Uncategorized
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