Strings Unattached.

Our big family outing yesterday was grocery shopping at Walmart. It is located on the east side of town, and hidden behind other businesses because our town is too yuppy to admit that we have one.

I feel my husband and I growing closer lately.

Perhaps we feel closer because we need to be a team. We are uniting as a team because in our home is another team and an often undefeated one. They are known as the little people, the short ones, sometimes a "b" name I will not admit to the public, but other wise known as, our children. (Little bastards- although we do think Colin is their father.)

I gave my husband a sideways glance in our shameful station wagon, one step closer to the dreaded mini van. His face matched mine. Our kids were in the back seat screaming at each other.

They were fighting over a string.

Yes, Sophie had found a thread that came off her coat and was waving it in the air joyfully as her brother tried to grab at it. It was his turn (!!!) he had announced.

Lord help us.

A piece of f*cking string.

"Where is the closest mental institution?" I calmly ask my husband and he looks at me with no emotion. "You're not going any where." He replied.


But last night as I checked on these little people, deep in their slumbers, I realized how much they make my life crazy but so complete. I looked out Grie's window at the cold night and watched as my my neighbor's 14 year old daughter sat in a car with two guys passing a pipe around just after ten. I smiled thinking someday my kids would be doing the same thing.

Well-hopefully it will be a homework assignment or perhaps a can of pop, not a pot pipe.

Just yesterday they were tiny babies and suddenly they're little kids fighting over a string-

A simple pleasure for them and the simple things they do that make Colin and I roll our eyes but smile too.

-C