Some of that good well water...

Shonda and Chris had purchased their first home in a whirlwind process that only took about two weeks. They had contemplated it for a few months, but by the time they found a real estate agent, it seemed like everything was just too easy and fell right into place for them. It only took a few days to get pre-approved for a loan, and then only a few more to find just the right house. Once they closed on it, they found themselves packing three years worth of stuff and hauling it across town to the house that they would forever think of as their first true home.

Sure they had lived in various houses throughout their lives, but a home was something different. A home was something that you could make your own. They could give it a sense of style and uniqueness without having to ask someone’s permission first. This appealed to them both and they were anxious to paint the walls all of their favorite colors and hang up curtains that showed the true “them”.

Unfortunately, they were so caught up in the moment and in the hastiness in which everything had happened, that they forgot to consider a few small details. When they worked out their budget to include a new mortgage payment (quite a bit higher than what they were accustomed to paying for rent) they neglected the fact that they never had to worry about a washer, dryer or refrigerator before. Upon realizing this and knowing that they wouldn’t be able to afford buy these things for quite some time, they decided to browse the local Rent-to-Own places to see what they could find.

When they entered one such establishment, they found that the washers and dryers were not too bad as far as a weekly rental was concerned. And they decided that they could afford that until January when they got their income tax refund. The refrigerators, however, were altogether out of their price range and they simply couldn’t afford the weekly payments that would be required.

So the day that they moved in the last of their furniture, Chris scoured the classifieds to see what they had to offer. He finally found an ad stating a sizeable fridge in good condition that had to "go now at this very reasonable price." Not wanting to risk losing it to someone else, Chris called the number and made arrangements to pick the thing up.

When he and his brother arrived, they found a beast of a machine waiting for them. It was a light brown, double door fridge that looked like it was straight from the 70’s. With the help of the seller, they managed to work the 500 pound monster up into the back of his brother’s tiny little pick-up truck and drove home at a snail’s pace. Every corner and turn they encountered made the truck lean over just a little further than normal because of the weight of the fridge. But they made it home without major incident only to face the daunting task of getting the thing not only inside, but up a flight of stairs as well.

Chris called a friend from college who lived not far away and the boys got down to the task at hand. The three of them easily got the thing out of the bed of the truck, because gravity was doing most of the work for them. All they had to concentrate on was not dropping it. They then worked it down the short side walk in front of the house and up to a tiny concrete porch. This only required one step up, and while it took some effort, the three of them managed.

“This may not be as hard as I thought,” Chris stated with confidence. Only to find out almost immediately that he was completely wrong. The fridge was not only very heavy, but there weren’t very many places to get a good grip on it. And, most of those places were solid steel and somewhat sharp. They only had about seven steps to go, but it took them a good 45 minutes. As they reached the top, exhausted, they had no choice but to lean the thing all the way over to clear the entrance to the kitchen. Once it was in they got it right side up and plugged it in. It began to hum softly as the cooling element came to life and they were satisfied with a job well done.

Chris checked on the thing several times over the next few hours and it kept getting colder and colder. So they went to bed content that they had made a decent purchase and that all was well.
Chris woke up the next day only to find that while the thing was still running, it was not very cold at all. “That figures,” he thought to himself, glad that he had only paid $80 for it. “Hopefully it will last for a few months.”

That turned out to be wishful thinking. Within a few days the appliance had lost all capacity to maintain a cold temperature and they were forced to store their food in ice chests. During a phone call to her mother, Shonda mentioned what had happened.

“Why’d they lay it down?” was Ranae’s first response. “Everyone knows you can’t lay a fridge down and then plug it in right away. You have to wait for a least a day or two for all the fluid to come out of the compressor. They probably burned that darn thing up!”

“How in the world is a normal human being supposed to know that?” Chris practically yelled. “Unless I’m a refrigerator mover or I’ve seen that obscure fact someplace on the internet, how am I supposed to know that?” He was more embarrassed than upset about this. Once he heard what had happened it all made logical sense as to why it wasn't working.

Ranae offered that a nearby thrift store in a neighboring town had a small fridge out front the last time she drove by. “I think it was only $50,” she said.

Chris asked her to see if it was still there and to either put it on hold or buy it and he would pay her back. She said she would and that following Saturday, Chris drove three and a half hours to Kentucky to pick the thing up.

Not expecting much when he arrived, he wasn’t surprised to see that this fridge was very small and very old. But, it didn’t smell and once he plugged it in to make sure it worked, he hauled it back home.

They lived with this excuse for a fridge for the next two months. It worked, to be sure, but it accumulated frost very quickly and never really got things as cold as they were supposed to be. So it was with extreme excitement when January hit and they received their tax refund check from the government. They drove down to the Home Depot and began browsing. They settled on a two door fridge that had all the amenities: ice maker, ample storage, moveable shelving, plenty of freezer space and an ice and water dispenser in the door.

The latter feature was utilized more than any other. They both loved that they didn’t have to dig in an ice bucket or crack open an ice tray when the needed a glass of ice. And the water dispenser had its own filtration system so it was just as good as bottled water. So they were content, and their food and beverages were properly cooled and stored.

So it was with great pride that they worked on their little home. Painting a room here, adding a ceiling fan there. All those inexpensive minor things that when added up, can make quite an impact.

A few weeks had passed and Shonda’s family came for a visit. Ranae, Jeff (Shonda’s stepfather), and their three youngest daughter’s; Tabatha, Charissa and Sabrina made the trek from rural Kentucky to the metropolitan area of suburbia St. Louis. They all filed into the home and Chris and Shonda gave them the grand tour.

“This is the master bedroom,” Chris stated. “It was actually an addition to the house. When we go outside later I’ll show you the posts that it actually rests on. It’s kind of like one of the houses on stilts you see on beaches.”

He continued on with the smaller bedrooms, and the girls “oohed” and “awed” at Savannah’s purple and white Princess room. He took them down into the finished basement and showed them where he ultimately was going to put his big screen TV. And then led them back upstairs to show the hard wood floors in the living room and finally the kitchen.

“And this,” Chris said with grandiose flair, “is the latest addition to our family.” He pointed directly at the brand new side by side and stood back to bask in the glow of their jealousy.
Needless to say, they all showed how impressed they were (whether they meant it or not, he didn’t care). He even went so far as to demonstrate all of its features and made Ranae a fresh glass of filtered ice water.

She gladly accepted it and took a long drink as Chris looked on. Then without warning, her face went pale as she lunged towards the kitchen sink. She spit out the ice water and then dumped the rest of her glass. She was making gagging sounds and flailing her arms about.
Chris, looking at her in horror and confusion, demanded to know what was wrong. He was scared that there may be something wrong with the water.

“That was awful!” Ranae replied. His mother-in-law had a tendency to overreact to most situations and this one was no different. “What the heck’s the matter with that stuff? And what’s that taste?”

“Do you mean the taste of fresh filtered water?” Chris intoned as sarcastically as he possibly could. He was beginning to get offended by her behavior.

“That stuff is horrible,” Ranae continued. “Does all city water taste like that?”

Ranae and Jeff, made their home in a tiny little town in rural Kentucky. And while it was a far cry from the images of Appalachia from the movie “Deliverance” that you may have in mind, it wasn’t too far off. They lived in a small trailer that was just down the road from Jeff’s mechanic job. They managed to barely make ends meet with what Jeff brought home and what the state supplemented them with via food stamps, etc.

Their living situation often involved various automobiles in the yard along with assorted run-down appliances. There were also the multitude of family “pets” which included dogs, cats, chickens, and even a few raccoons. The interior was a hodgepodge of all the things that they had accumulated over the years, and they could never seem to get rid of any of it. They driveway was dirt, they had been know to “borrow” electricity from a nearby neighbor and yes, they got their water from a well.

“Not all city water tastes like that,” Chris retorted. “And besides, it’s not city water. It’s filtered water.”

To satisfy himself, he made himself a glass. First he sniffed it and then took a drink.

“Ranae, there is absolutely nothing wrong with this water,” he said.

“I tell ya what,” she said, “they next time we come up, I’m gonna bring ya some of that good well water from home.”

“Really? That's not necessary." Chris said.

“Yep.” Ranae continued, “and then we can compare the both of them.”

“Fair enough,” Chris said.

The rest of the visit continued without incident. They said their goodbye’s, made plans for a Thanksgiving visit, and the Kentucky folks returned home.

Life went on for the next few months. The seasons changed from summer to fall, and from fall to winter. Ranae and Jeff were outside by an open fire, enjoying the contrasting warmth of the fire and the crisp night air of early winter. They were busy crushing aluminum cans and bagging them up in preparation for their trip back to the city. They already had several bags filled and they were headed off to the recycle place in the morning to trade their cans in for some gas money. When they had crushed the last can, they sat around for a little while longer.

“Well momma,” Jeff finally said. “We should probably call it a night. We gotta get up early, you know?”

“Yep,” she answered back. “I’m just going to go in and get a few things ready.”

They woke up early and Jeff drove the cans to the recycle place to collect their bounty. While he was gone, Ranae was busy waking up the girls and packing the last few items they would need for the road. She always brought food with her, just in case. She had packed a cooler full and was busy finding any tiny crevice of room that may be left for some beers and sodas she found in the fridge. Jeff pulled back down the driveway honking the horn and shouting “Let’s get a move on!”
Ranae hurried the girls out while Jeff came in and got all the heavy stuff. They were all piled in the car and Jeff started to pull back up the driveway.

“Wait!” Ranae shouted and opened her door.

Jeff swore and slammed on the brake. “What’s the matter with you woman!” he demanded.

“I forgot something,” she said and ran back in the house.

Jeff sat impatiently in the car and was growing more agitated by the moment. He hated making this long trip anyway, and right now he just wanted to get it over with. The seconds seemed like hours and he was on the verge of honking the horn when the front door of the trailer came open and Ranae came back outside. She was carrying something, but he couldn’t make out what it was. He decided it wasn’t worth the effort to try and find out, and put the car in drive.

They arrived later that day at Chris and Shonda’s house, and were greeted with hugs and kisses. Savannah, their oldest child, flew into her grandmother’s arms almost the second she stepped out of the car. They all went inside and visited for a while. Then Jeff and Ranae went back out to bring their stuff in.

Chris was in the kitchen preparing the evening meal when Ranae entered and sat an old milk jug down on the counter. Chris eyed it with hesitant curiosity. It was so old it was beginning to turn yellow, and it had a peculiar rust color along one side. He couldn’t quite make out what was inside, so against his better judgment, he asked about the contents of the jug.

“It’s some of that good well water, silly.” Ranae laughed at him and slapped him on the shoulder.

“I told you I was gonna bring ya some, didn’t I?”

Chris had completely forgotten about the gagging incident a few months before. He stared at Ranae with a helpless look on his face. “You didn’t have to bring that, Ranae,” he said. “Our water is just fine.”

“I just want you to try it. If you don’t like it then fine,” she said.

“Fine,” Chris gave in. Knowing how stubborn Ranae could be he decided that he should just get it over with.

He opened a cabinet and took down a glass. Ranae opened the jug and handed it to him. Chris winced as he caught his first whiff of this acrid water that had been kept in the hideous jug for who knows how long. “Are you sure it’s fresh?” he quipped.

“Just poured it this mornin’,” she replied.

He sighed and poured the liquid into his glass. On a whim, he held the glass up to the light and could immediately see tiny dark specs floating in it. By this time a crowd had gathered around them in the kitchen to watch this small contest of wills. Chris tried to summon all his strength and will to take a sip, but again his eye caught a tiny fleck suspended in the glass. It was mocking him, almost daring him to take a drink. So he did the only thing left to do...

Well Water...Part Eight

Chapter 4

Shonda was sitting on the couch drinking her morning cup of coffee. She was enjoying a rare moment when all three of her children were quietly watching television instead of fighting with each other. She pondered what arts and crafts she was going to have for the day care kids and was already running through a mental inventory of fridge and pantry items that she could use for that day’s lunch and snacks. As she sat in her contemplative state, she was interrupted by Nicholas.

“I hungy mama” he said in a very serious voice as he rubbed his belly in a circular motion.

“Okay Nick Nack,” she laughed at his universal hand signal for hunger. “Do you want a waffle?”

“Yes,” he replied, with an emphasis on the “s”, and went back to sit down in front of the TV.
Nicholas had just recently begun speaking in full sentences and was a source of constant laughter for Shonda throughout the day. His mispronunciation of words, and the words and syllables he chose to emphasize, meant there was never a dull conversation to be had with him. In fact, all three of her children were at various levels of communication and that meant there were some extremely funny one-liners being uttered on a consistent basis. Savannah, who was very smart for a seven year old, was always trying to say profound and intelligent things, to make her sound more like an adult. But she usually ended up tongue tied or saying things that contradicted what she was trying to say. And Noah was always pronouncing words in his own way, which on several occasions had caused his parents to become extremely embarrassed.

Once during a family holiday in which there were several family members visiting, they had decided to get everyone McDonald’s for lunch. When Noah’s happy meal arrived, he snatched his bag and went directly into the living room. The meal came with a toy that looked quite complicated for a five year old, so Chris had read the directions and they figured out how to assemble it together. Regrettably, Chris had made the comment to Noah that it was very important to read the directions first. Noah processed this wisdom from his father and directed his attention towards his toy.

He left Noah with his toy and his nuggets and went back to his own lunch. A little while later, as they were all enjoying their food, Noah came frantically running into the kitchen with tears in his eyes.

Everyone had concerned looks on their faces as no one could figure out why he was so upset.

“What’s the matter little man?” Chris asked, not sure what to make of the situation.

“Daddy, I lost my directions!” he cried and the entire room burst into laughter as Chris just shook his head and Shonda buried her head in her hands.

While Noah had every intention of actually saying the word “directions”, he somehow could only pronounce it without the “d”. So what came out was a very high pitched “Daddy, I lost my erections!”

Noah, who like both of their children, absolutely hated to be mocked in any way, started to get angry and stormed out of the kitchen. The adults in the room, who had burst out with an initial fit of laughter, were now trying to stifle that, without much success. Shonda, who was mortified by this could do nothing but concentrate on eating her chicken sandwich, and Chris (who was privately laughing to himself about the situation) was on his way after Noah to calm him down and try to teach him the correct way to pronounce the word.

Well Water...Part Seven

Chris backed the rest of the way out of the driveway and onto the street of their subdivision. His eye caught the window screen of his son’s room. Weeks prior, Savannah had decided to throw a tantrum and cut nice little square shaped holes in each of the kid’s windows. It didn’t look that bad from inside the house. But from the outside you could see these blemishes from across the street. It had annoyed Shonda that he hadn’t had a chance to repair them yet. She would make comments like “we finally moved into a nice house in a decent neighborhood and now we have ghetto windows!” She was right though. A little more than a year earlier they had purchased what Shonda considered her dream home. It was a modest two story house, with green wooden siding and bright white windows. Shonda said it reminded her of a doll house. Chris didn’t have an opinion one way or the other about that observation, but he did admit that it was the nicest house that he or any member of his family had ever been lucky enough to live in. He made a mental note to fix the screens on the weekend and made his way through the neighborhood.

He meandered through the subdivision of middle class homes with well manicured lawns. The houses were of various shapes and sizes. There were two story homes, ranch style houses and a variety of brick and siding choices. It was a typical suburban neighborhood. When they first moved in what Chris noticed almost immediately was that the average age of the residents was well beyond their own age. These were mostly families with high school aged children, if not college age. They were well established in their various careers and most of the women were stay at home moms and a fair amount of them had some sort of “enhancement” procedures done to their bodies. They were forever scheduling neighborhood association meetings of some sort, or someone was trying to schedule as mass play-date or event at the community pool. There were mom's clubs and “girls’ night out” clubs. It was an entire subdivision of people who liked to do almost the exact same things. Chris privately joked with Shonda that they had moved into a “Stepford” neighborhood. To himself, he thought that they had somehow gotten ahead of the game and should still be living in their first home, which was a much more modest split level house with a mortgage that was half of what they were paying now.

He passed by a few of the neighborhood’s morning walkers: an assortment of elderly ladies ambling down the streets and sidewalks and a sole dog walker being briskly lead down the road. As he drove, he fumbled with the radio. He wasn’t really searching for any station in particular, and settled for the local country station that he had awakened to earlier. He made his way out of the neighborhood and onto a series of back roads that would eventually lead him to a main expressway.

Their subdivision was directly next to a vast non-residential area that was still part of the greater metropolitan area, but was located between two major parts of town. It was a very beautiful part of the city that consisted of some farmland, a county park and an assortment of driving ranges, soccer fields and baseball fields. When they had moved to the new house, it only took Chris a few weeks to find out that he could cut his commute to work in half by taking the back roads, and he was pleasantly surprised that the scenery wasn’t too bad either.

He pulled onto yet another road which passed the edge of a large park and lake. This was the kind of park that consisted of several different smaller sections. In addition to the lake, which was by far the biggest and most popular attraction, there were several other pavilions, smaller playgrounds, driving ranges and walking paths scattered over what he guessed to be about two square miles. And perhaps the feature of the entire area that enjoyed the highest amount of activity was the concrete walkway encompassing the entire park. As it was already a fine summer day, there were several dozen walkers, bikers and rollerbladers taking advantage of the cool morning air. Chris sighed and thought how much he too would like to take advantage of some early morning exercise, and he was always curious as to just how long the actual path was. But with three young kids at home, and a morning schedule that only got worse when school started, it wasn’t going to be a possibility until they were much older. Besides, he lied to himself, there’s always the Tony Little Gazelle sitting at home.

He continued on his route to the office, stopping only at a quickie mart to grab a cup of coffee. He stopped most mornings at this place because they had pretty good French vanilla cappuccino which he used to make the coffee at work somewhat drinkable. He was not a macho “I drink my coffee black” kind of guy, so he needed the sweet flavoring to mask the taste of the mass produced swill that passed for coffee at his work place. And, to make matters worse, the pots were the big metal kind so there was always a metal aftertaste to it which no amount of sugar and cream could completely mask.

A few more stop lights and he finally turned into the parking lot of his job. “Another day, another dollar,” Chris mumbled to himself. He got out of the vehicle and made his way up the side walk and into the wonderful world of corporate America. The building he entered housed the headquarters for the world leading maker of automotive service equipment. They were responsible for inventing some of the most sophisticated, and expensive diagnostic equipment around and enjoyed a market share of business. He knew this to be true, because not only did he see a small portion of the total business that this company did on a monthly basis, he also knew what the general consensus of the customer base thought about the equipment. Chris knew there would always be a group of shop owners that would never be satisfied, but for the most part people either owned this brand of equipment for years or had a dream of owning it one day. Sort of like how there are certain people who are so convinced about the quality of a particular brand of vehicle they would never even consider buying anything else.

Considering all this, Chris often wondered why, if his company did so well, the building was still stuck in the art-deco style of the sixties and seventies. The campus, while generally very beautiful, consisted of plain white buildings with little or no decorative effect. In fact, the only saving grace for the entire complex was that no expense was spared on the landscaping. Sandwiched between the parking lot and the main building was a field of plush green grass that was about the size of three football fields. The side walk, which dissected the vast field, was edged with a row of trees on either side. But once that side walk ended the drabness of the building began. He did have to give them credit though; while the outside aesthetic of the building had gone unchanged for decades, they were making very drastic renovations on the interior of the building.

The main lobby was just redone in a more modern style. There was a gigantic half-moon reception desk and directly behind it a fifty inch plasma screen monitor that flashed the company logo as well as welcome messages to the various visitors expected for the day. On either side of the reception desk was a glass walled meeting room decked out with oak topped conference style tables and various electronic display devices. The remainder of the lobby was filled with plush, overstuffed leather furniture, solid dark maple coffee tables, and on one wall there was even a drink station complete with sink, coffee maker and mini-fridge.

As he walked through the exterior lobby doors, he nodded and smiled at the receptionist and waved his ID badge at the electronic lock to the main building doors. He made a bee line for the break room and was glad to see that there wasn’t anyone else in there yet. Chris wasn’t a morning person at all, but he was never rude to anyone. He always returned a “good morning” with a smile or polite “morning” of his own. He wasn’t anti-social by any means; he just didn’t care to have in-depth conversations with anyone until he had gotten his first cup of morning coffee into his system.

He filled up a little white Styrofoam cup and made his way through the maze of cubicles to the one he called his very own. The cubicles in his office building weren’t the kind that you would think of in the classic sense of the word. Usually, offices with cubicles are tightly packed with a chest high maze of little gray squares. The cubicles in Chris’ office were half wall and half glass. They consisted of about a waist high section of taupe colored material and the remainder was made of glass that ended about a foot from the ceiling. Chris had always thought it strange that this was the design of the cubicles. Depending on the configuration of the desks inside these cubicles, many people in the office had to stare at each other on a daily basis. And while it did promote office chatter throughout the day, which generally made for quicker days, he always thought it was rather annoying.

Unfortunately, this phenomenon affected Chris, but being a mid-level manager did have its perks. For years, he had been in control of whoever was placed in the office directly across from his. If a new person came in, or someone transferred into the department, he would simply reassign them to another cubicle. Currently, there was a single mom in her forties that occupied the office across from his. She was polite and friendly and had teenage daughters. So Chris constantly had conversations with her about the troubles that came up with raising not only teenagers, but teenage girls specifically. He had noticed that his own daughter, who was only seven years old, already had a sassy attitude and was completely enthralled with clothes, make-up and jewelry. He would comment about how he hoped this was a phase, probably naively so. To his dismay, he was informed that it would be much worse before it got better.

With coffee in hand from the break room, he walked into his office and sat down at his desk. He surveyed his space to make sure that everything was as it should be. His office was cluttered with paper. Part of his job was to process surveys to make sure that the equipment that his company sold would fit in various customer locations. Over the years, this mound of paper had a tendency to start to pile up. On that day, nothing seemed out of sorts with his various stacks of parchment so he turned his attention elsewhere.

He glanced at his phone to see if the voice mail light was on. It was not and he breathed an inward sigh of relief. An early morning message usually meant that an employee would be in late or not at all, and he wasn’t in the mood to have to answer incoming phone calls. He moved the mouse so that his PC screen saver would stop running and then logged in. The first thing he saw when he hit the enter button was and image of all three of his children.

Weeks earlier, Shonda had taken photos of all the children in the back yard and had them developed and blown up for an art project. Chris had sent them to his email so that he could use them as his desktop background. Nicholas, who they rarely got to actually pose for a picture, was lying in the grass with his head cocked to one side and a cute little smile on his face. Noah was standing with his back against a tree, looking off to one side with a giant toothy grin. And Savannah, who was the complete opposite of Nicholas when it came to photographs, was sitting on the ground in a pose reminiscent of a high fashion magazine: one shoulder thrust forward, her long blonde hair cascading about her shoulders, and a picture perfect Hollywood smile. He logged into all of his various programs and settled in for another day’s work.

Well Water...Part Six

Chapter 3

Chris walked out the back door and down the steps of the deck in back of the house. As he reached the bottom, he turned around to latch the gate at the end of the stairs. He noticed Ranae sitting on the patio underneath the deck, smoking a cigarette. He smiled and waved and got into the family van. He began to back up out of the driveway that wrapped around towards the front of their home, all the while being careful not to hit his mother-in-law’s maroon 1980 Ford Astro van. As he maneuvered around it, he was grateful that he didn’t have to drive that piece of junk any more.

The “vehicle”, if you could call it that, showed every last day of its age. It was one of the very first mini vans ever produced: a boxy, un-aerodynamic, completely un-sexy vehicle. It reeked of utilitarianism. The van was covered in very unappealing maroon paint and had several rust spots on it. The largest and most noticeable were actually rust “holes” that ran along the very bottom edge of the sides. These holes gave the appearance that some giant movie monster with great menacing claws had tried to open the van up like a sardine can. The tires were all of different make and of different tread wear. They looked like they were about a day away from needing replacement. And the inside didn’t get much better. The air conditioner didn’t work, so the only relief from the heat on a hot day was to roll the windows down. The interior was filled with dust from cigarette smoke and the rear passenger seats and cargo section were crammed with various odds and ends: tools, buckets, tarps, clothing, rocks, etc. The van had not only been used as a work vehicle, but also a storage shed as well as a bedroom.

Chris shuddered at the memory of his last stint inside the vehicle. A few weeks prior, Shonda had signed the kids up for vacation bible school and had convinced Chris to just take her mom’s van to work. He reluctantly agreed, because ultimately his wife’s comfort was more important than his own. And she constantly made comments about how she hated driving the “hoopty” around on the few prior occasions when she used it to drop Savannah off at her tutoring sessions. Shonda was not a vain person in any sense of the word, however Chris completely understood what she meant. The thing was ugly, loud and hot and made all kinds of weird noises.

One day, when Chris had driven it to work he was pulling into the parking lot as incognito as he could in the old beater. As he surveyed the lot, he was hoping that he wouldn’t see anyone else walking in but was quickly disappointed to see a smattering of co-workers making their way towards the building. So he did the only thing he could do: he pulled in like he owned the place. Only as he was pulling into a spot, which was very near to where some female co-workers had stopped to chat, he had to make a sharper turn than normal. This caused the pump for the power steering fluid to start making a high pitched whining sound. So there he was, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible but failing horribly because the car was sounding like it was actually ready to explode. Luckily, no one in the lot at that time was paying attention, so he quickly walked in to the building.

And while no one noticed his grand entrance into the parking lot, what they did notice was that he hadn’t successfully placed his mother-in-law’s entire keychain into his pants pocket. Her key chain consisted of the standard “o” shaped ring that you worked your keys through as well as a small piece of black leather that had a pewter image of a horse’s head attached to it. That part of the key chain made its way entirely into his pocket. However, the dozen or so foot long leather tassels that also protruded from the little horse head did not make it into the confines of his pocket. Most people were polite enough to ignore it, or at least not comment on it. However there was that one individual who felt the need to say “Hey, is that a miniature cat-of-nine-tails in your pocket, or are you just happy to see us?” After that day, Chris removed the key that was necessary to start the vehicle from the key chain and put the rest of the key chain in the glove box.

Well Water...Part Five

Chris finished making the morning coffee. A full pot was called for these days as Shonda’s mother, Ranae, had taken up residence with them for an indefinite amount of time. She had asked her mother to come for a couple of reasons. Mainly, because Shonda actually wanted to spend a summer taking the children to various summer time activities; swimming, bible camp, tutoring sessions, etc. She had never before been able to do this because she was always running the daycare. Also, Ranae’s life had recently taken a downward turn. She was currently without a “fixed” residence and called the inside of her van home. She also got by from her friends and neighbors giving her some couch time as well as the use of a hot shower and television. But all in all she was actually quite content to live in a van down by the river, so to speak. Shonda, not wanting to see her mother resort to homeless status, offered her room and board in exchange for helping out with the daycare. She agreed and had been living with them for that last few months.

As he was waiting for the coffee to finish brewing, Bit came up and started to ask for something to eat in a very whiney voice the grated on Chris’ last nerve. In order to stop the steam kettle crescendo of high pitched squeal that was about to happen, he grabbed a bag of marshmallows from the pantry and handed him a couple. He knew it probably wasn’t the best of breakfasts, but with the sugar content of cereal these days, Chris figured he could have done much worse. Plus Nicholas would have all of the evidence consumed before Shonda made her way out of the bathroom. As Bit made his way back to the escapades of Timmy, Cosmo and Wanda, the final gurgling sputter that came from the Mr. Coffee announced that its task was complete.

Chris proceeded to make Shonda’s coffee exactly the way she liked it: two fingers of French vanilla creamer and top it off with Joe. He then walked down the hallway to the bathroom to make his morning delivery. It didn’t seem like much, Chris knew, but he had been taking Shonda her morning cup of coffee since forever and a day. It was a little thing, but it was a very important part of his morning ritual and he knew that he would probably be bringing her that cup until they were both wearing Depends and didn’t have any of their original teeth left. He slid up behind her, sat the cup down on the sink and softly kissed the back of her neck.

At about the time he was making his way back into the kitchen, their oldest son, Noah, was making his way downstairs. Noah’s morning ritual was very basic but consisted of three utterly necessary components; his Batman blanket, his Sponge Bob pillow and his chocolate milk. As he stumbled through the kitchen with the first two of these three essentials, his first words (as they always were) were “Chocolate milk?” Chris’ oldest boy was a choco-holic to the nth degree. It was the first thing he asked for in the morning and one of the last things that he asked for at night. And if he didn’t get it soon, real soon, he would let you know it. Chris always thought that he should just start making it the night before, ready for the exact moment that it was asked for. But this morning exchange had become just as much a part of Chris’ morning ritual as any of the other steps. He was quick on the draw and had a sippy cup full of the chocolate beverage ready in no time, and Noah was on his way into the living room.

Shonda had finished with her make up and was on her way into the living room to sit for a few brief moments before the first kids arrived for the day. Chris let the dog, Bella, down in the basement so that she would wake up Ranae (who had been sleeping on the couch) and be let outside. A few minutes later, the first children showed up and Savannah was on her way into the living room with a serious case of bed head. All appeared right with the world, or at least as right as it could be for a Tuesday, so Chris decided it was time for him to make the trek to work.

Hey Dale...

Can you say "Eminent Domain"? I knew you could

Sometimes I wish people would just call a spade a spade. For example, all of this bailout money that’s being floated around out there has to have a spending deadline, right? Funds that have been earmarked for specific states must be used or allotted to projects before certain dates or else the state will lose that money, right? Keeping that in mind, let me tell you a little story.

Shonda and I decided on the home we live in now for a few very specific reasons. First, it was the size we needed. With three growing children we needed at least a four bedroom home.

Second, the layout of our home is exactly what we needed for Shonda’s home daycare. There was a finished walkout basement and a huge backyard, which meant getting her state daycare license would be a cinch.

Lastly, the area was perfect for us. It was a very nice neighborhood, actually part of an association (we’d never been part of an association before) with trustees and officers and common grounds and a community club house. The neighborhood was flush with trees and neatly trimmed yards with a plethora of flower gardens and fancy shrubs. One of the best features that we loved about our property, was that the back yard butted right up to some woods that ended up in a bluff overlooking a valley with a river. Granted, it was a river in the middle of St. Louis County, but it was still a picturesque view. That is until now.



That’s an aerial view of my neck of the woods. Inside that red circle is our home. That red line with the arrow pointing at it is the fence line of our back yard. That giant mauve-colored thing is a proposed highway extension. Pretty, isn’t it?

Of course there’s a whole drama going on between our neighborhood association, us, our immediate neighbors and the county regarding what’s going to happen when and who can do what now. There’s even been police reports regarding trespassing county and state workers and some are even trying to determine the validity of certain claims about “home of an endangered animal” and “Indian burial ground”. Ultimately, however, I feel that we’ll stall and kick and scream and cry foul, but the government will ultimately do what it wants to. Or in this case what it needs to in order to make sure they don’t lose their Obama Dollars.

I wonder if they’ll build me my own on-ramp so I can get to work that much quicker in the morning?

911 Emergency…How May I Assist You?

Do anyone else’s children get hurt as much as mine do? I realize that my children are ages 4, 6 and 8 and that they’re very active, but seriously though. They get hurt on such a regular basis that we don’t even get excited unless the bleeding doesn’t stop. And that came about for purely financial reasons. Please allow me to explain…

A few years ago, Bit was riding a little tricycle in our living room. Our living room is rather large and we have a fireplace in which the brick hearth runs the entire length of one wall. The brick is raised up about a foot and a half and the edges are exposed. We’ve tried to cover the edges with that soft padding material that’s specifically designed for these situations, but it either a) never stays on by itself or b) our children rip it off to play with.

As Nicholas was riding his toy, he got close to the brick. The moment I told him to be careful, he leaned back and the tricycle shot out from under him. He fell backwards and his head hit the very hard corner of the brick hearth. I rushed to him only to see exactly what I dreaded seeing: his bleach blonde hair was becoming soaked with blood. I frantically investigated the wound which was a gigantic gash. I grabbed a towel and picked up the screaming boy and called his mother. She was at a hair appointment with our only vehicle. I made her come home immediately because I was absolutely certain that Bit was going to need stitches. She rushed home and we put him in his car seat, laying a towel behind his head to keep blood from getting everywhere. By the time Shonda arrived at the ER, the towel was soaked through. She hurried through the doors with our screaming and crying little boy. People took one look at the child and the blood soaked towel and immediately gave her the right of way. A short while later, the doctor said it wasn’t that big of a cut and all they could do was clean it out. He didn’t even get one stitch! I realize that it’s better to be safe than sorry, but that trip cost us a $100 co-pay. So now, with the bumps and bruises and cuts and gashes, we are a little bit more patient before we make any trips anywhere.

And it’s not just Nicholas. When Savannah was four, she was walking up the stairs with a towel wrapped around her after a bath. She stepped on the towel and it caused her to fall face first into one of the steps. This broke her two front teeth and we had to make an emergency trip to the dentist the next day. Also, you’ve seen what happens to Noah from an earlier post. I know my boys are rough with each other and luckily, Noah hasn’t had to make any trips to the ER. Oh wait…yes he has.

When Noah was born, he had a small cyst on his Johnson. He was also in need of a chordee repair. What this meant was that he could not get a circumcision while he was still in the hospital after being born. We actually had to wait for quite a while (about 18 months) before we could have this done. When the time came, he had his procedure and everything went just fine. The only evidence was a single stitch and some gauze wrapped around his “peanut”. A few days later, he and Savannah were playing and she accidentally fell right on top of him. He began to cry and scream uncontrollably, so we immediately knew that he was really hurt. I asked him what happened as I frantically examined him. I could find no injury at all until it dawned on me to look in his shorts. I held my breath as I took a peak and found that the worst had happened. His Johnson was covered in blood and the sight of it almost made me pass out. I could have sworn he popped his stitch out and was going to have to have an emergency procedure to correct it. About six hours later his mother returned from the ER only to tell me that they just cleaned it up and put a band aid on it. Again, that cost us another $100 ER co-pay.

Which brings me to our latest fiasco. I was sitting in our living room the other day and I heard a crash come from the bathroom. We hear crashes all the time so I was waiting for delayed crying or screaming to see if anyone was hurt. Unfortunately, Bit came running out of the bathroom screaming, “I fell off the toilet….I fell off the toilet!”

I took me a moment, but I noticed that his upper lip was bleeding and was starting to puff up quite rapidly. I picked him up and sat him on the counter to investigate. By now, I’ve learned to not freak out when something like this happens, so upon further examination I realized that while it was quite the ordeal for Nicholas to be going through, it was just a minor bloody lip and the bleeding stopped almost immediately.

I then went into the bathroom to find out what had happened. For some reason, both of my boys sit on the toilet seat when going to the bathroom (something that I know (hope) they’ll grow out of when they get older). But they don’t sit normally. They squat over the bowl with both feet on the seat. Using my superior CSI skills, I determined what happened to Nicholas. As he was squatting, one of the hinges on the seat broke. And as he shift his weight the entire seat slid off and he busted his mouth right on the floor. If you think about this visual imagine I’m sure that at some point you’ll see the humor in it.

Luckily, I didn’t need to take him to the emergency room. I’ll be using what I would have spent on a co-pay to go by a new toilet seat instead.

Well Water...Part Four

When their oldest child, Savannah, was born, Shonda was employed as an assistant manager at Walgreen’s pharmacy. When she came off of maternity leave and went back to work, she just couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her baby girl with some stranger. It wasn’t a so much a case of separation anxiety, as it was that she just didn’t want to work at a job where the hours weren’t consistent. (okay, okay, maybe it was a mild case of anxiety). Along with her initial reservations about going back to work, Shonda and Chris had decided to find an at-home daycare provider so that Savannah could spend her days in a familiar setting instead of the typical, and unfriendly, confines of a “center” type facility.

What they settled on, was a younger woman, not much older than they were, who also had children of her own. In retrospect, their internal warning systems should have gone off when they found out that this would be her very first “student”. But she seemed nice and trustworthy and so they decided to give her a shot. Little did they know that Savannah would cry so much during the day that this woman made quite a deal about it on the first day when they came to pick her up. As Chris pulled up in the driveway, the woman practically ran out the door with the baby already in the pumpkin seat, ready to go. Chris assured her that when Savannah had grown accustomed to her that she would settle down. She made some wisecrack about Savannah “driving her to drink” but Chris thought nothing of it. In fact, the only thing he considered on the way home, was that he thought it strange that she made such a big deal about a baby crying. She was a home daycare provider, right?

Without dwelling on it too much, aside from telling Shonda when he got home, Chris took Savannah back the next morning and proceeded to work. Later on that day, Shonda called him and said that the lady was complaining, again, about Savannah’s crying and that she wasn’t sure if she could continue. Chris finished his day at the office and made the trek through rush hour traffic. This was another sore spot for this woman; even though Chris and Shonda both explained to her that he would not be able to be there any sooner than about 5:45 or 6:00 pm to pick her up, she made a huge ordeal when he got stuck in traffic the first day. Chris sighed because he was running late again. He spent the majority of his drive time by mentally preparing himself for another scolding from someone he barely knew.

On that second day, when Chris pulled up in the driveway, he was not met by the woman. He actually had a chance to walk up to the door and knock. When she opened the door, Chris was already prepared for the “you’re late” talk, but he was completely unprepared for what he saw. As the door opened, he saw that Savannah was already in her pumpkin seat. As the woman was bitching again about him being late and about how much the baby cried, he barely noticed a man sitting in the woman’s kitchen. As he turned his attention back toward the woman, something that he had just noticed began to nag at him. He looked back into the kitchen, this time being more observant. He noticed that the trash can was one of those that had the swivel type of lid. He also noticed that there were several beer cans that were keeping it from shutting all the way. He also noticed that there were four or five beer cans on the kitchen table, and that the man he presumed to be “husband” or “boyfriend” was busy finishing one off.

As he stood there, not really paying attention to the buzzing that was coming out of the woman’s mouth, he could feel the blood start rushing to his cheeks. All of a sudden, the woman’s off handed remark about “driving one to drink” became perfectly clear. He surmised that the woman had literally thought that getting drunk on beer would somehow make the day go by a little easier. To avoid a physical confrontation and a possible trip to the local precinct, Chris kept his mouth shut took out his check book. He wrote it out for the amount that they owed her, and then told her they wouldn’t be coming back. Then he picked up his baby girl and took her home.

Shonda was so enraged when she got home later that evening and Chris had informed her of what had happened that she started to pick up the phone give that chick a piece of her mind. He convinced her to just let it go and that they needed to figure out what they were going to do next. What Chris had expected her to say was “Honey, I’ll take a few days off from work and try to find a more qualified individual to care for our child during the day.” Instead, what she said was “Honey, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.”

“Thinking about what?” Chris asked.

She said, “Listen, before you freak out, I want you to know that I was researching this the entire time I was on maternity leave…”

“Researching what?” he asked as he was starting to get a little worried (and somewhat annoyed) that she was being very vague.

“…and I think that I can really do it and make something out of it.”

“Something out of what!” he said. At this point his irritation was starting to show.

“And, if we gave that stupid chick a chance, then think of how many people will come to us, because I know I can do a better job.” She concluded this last statement and just stood there looking at him.

“For the love of God! What are you talking about?” He was upset by now.

He was getting a little more than nervous about this exchange and he had good reason. Shonda had a slightly annoying habit of starting off conversations with statements like “Don’t be mad but…” or “Listen, I know you told me not to but…” And he never knew what earth shattering news was about to be delivered or what miniscule event had happened to warrant this type of opening. Usually, these beginning salvos were followed with “I flex paid a new digital camera from HSN and it’s only going to cost us fifty five dollars a month for the next twelve months.” Or “I know you told me to wait but I went ahead and rearranged the entire living room while you were gone.”

This time, it was a little more important. When she finally decided that she had tortured him enough, she went into detail about a plan she had recently devised. She explained to him that when she was searching for someone to take care of Savannah, she thought she had lucked out when they found this lady. Most of the in-home daycares that she had spoken to charged upwards of one hundred seventy five dollars a week to care for an infant. The lady she had found only charged seventy five dollars a week. At the time Shonda didn’t mind that this would be her first student, because she thought she was making out quite well at only three hundred a month for child care.

When she started to crunch some numbers, she realized that she could almost match her salary at the pharmacy if she were able to watch four kids at one hundred fifty a week. She also figured that by charging less than the average of what most other people were charging, she would be able to get four kids in no time.

“Not only that,” she continued, “we won’t have to spend money on child care ourselves. That alone is worth about eight grand a year right there. So when you really think about it, I’d be making the equivalent of almost forty thousand a year!” Shonda had started to get excited all over again about her idea. “And, as if that weren’t enough, I would be able to take care of Savannah myself, and not have to worry about sending her off to someone like that douche bag trailer whore.”

Chris just stood there staring at her with an open mouth. Equally stunned by how much research she had already put into this idea before springing it on him, as he was by the shock of hearing the words “douche bag trailer whore” come out of his lovely bride’s mouth.
“How are we supposed to get by on just my salary until you find four kids?” It was the only thing that he could think of to say. Inside, he was actually getting excited himself. What a completely beautiful and extremely intelligent creature he had had the luck of finding and getting her to say “I do”.

“It’s funny you should ask that” Shonda replied. “I’ve already put an ad in the local paper and a few people have already responded to it.”

“Besides,” she continued “if it doesn’t work out, I can always get my job back at Walgreen’s.” “In fact, I may even just tell them I need a few more weeks of time before I come back to work for good.”

Chris considered it for a moment. This would be the first most major decision that they would make. He knew she was probably right about Walgreen’s taking her back, but it was still a very scary proposition to think about her quitting. She made more money than he did and they already had trouble making ends meet as it was. But aside from the uncertainty of how long it would take before they found families to come to the daycare, he really couldn’t think of any reason not to at least give it a try. So against his better judgment, they dove in feet first.

That was several years, couple dozen daycare kids, two more of their own children, and three houses ago.

Well Water...Part Three

Chapter 2

Chris and Nicholas walked through the foyer of their modest two story home and passed by the downstairs bathroom. The door was closed and Chris could hear the exhaust fan running and he knew that Shonda was inside putting on her makeup, which was the final step of her morning ritual. They went through the kitchen, which opened up into the family room and Chris sat Bit down in front of the TV. Before he had even turned it on, Bit was asking for “Sponge Bob”. Only it sounded more like “punbob?” He settled for Fairly Odd Parents because it was only a little after seven a.m. and SpongeBob SquarePants didn’t come on until eight o’clock. Once he saw that he was sufficiently entertained, at least for the moment, Chris started for the kitchen to start the morning pot of coffee.

Over the years, Chris and Shonda had developed a very specific recipe for coffee. They only used whole beans that they ground themselves and they had a tightly controlled “scoop of beans/cups of water” ratio that was strictly adhered to. Their recipe varied when the amount of people drinking coffee changed, and who those people were. For example, if company was visiting and everyone was drinking java, then it was grind three scoops of whole beans and then fill the entire carafe to the top. If it was just Chris and Shonda, then it was two scoops of beans and fill the coffee maker up so that the water line was half way between the “6” and the “7” cup line. If Chris was just making coffee for Shonda, then he used one scoop and the water gets filled to the “4”.

He knew they would probably be considered anal for being so picky about coffee. But the one thing that Shonda enjoyed the most on a daily basis was her morning cup. It was her moment before the madness of the day ensued. The calm before the storm, so to speak. Those few moments of peace before the work day began. And what Shonda had chosen to do as a profession, which was born out of anxiety more so than necessity, was to run an in-home child daycare.

In all the time that she had been doing this, Chris could never understand exactly where she got the energy to cope with toddlers and babies all day long. He was astounded by the fact that she could take care of so many children all day, every day, including their own. He would challenge anyone who considered what Shonda did as “babysitting” to actually put on her shoes for one day and see if it was their cup of tea or not. Not only did she care for various toddlers and infants: morning and afternoon snack, lunch, naps, potty breaks, diaper changes etc., but she also had an actual curriculum that she followed. They partook in various activities that included arts and crafts as well as learning letters and numbers.

On the rare occasion that Chris took a day off while the day care was open, he was always surprised at how hectic and non-stop the daily pace was for her. In fact, the only break during the entire day came during nap time for the children. But did she sit back and enjoy the quiet time by dozing on the couch? No. Did she enjoy and uninterrupted viewing of that day’s episode of All My Children or the previous day’s Young and the Restless? No. Usually, she did housework of some sort. And on occasion, Chris had come home from work and an entire room had been edged and painted. Or the front flower garden had been planted and mulched. It was for these reasons that he literally would get offend when people called her a baby sitter. What she did was raise people’s children for them while they were busy making a living. “Babysitter” is a term for teenage girls who are watching your kids for a few hours while you go grab dinner and catch a flick.

And the daycare was quite lucrative. So lucrative in fact, that when things were going well she could almost triple what Chris made in a year. And this never bothered him in the least because he knew that she earned every penny of it. He thanked God on a consistent basis that she found something that she enjoyed to do and for the crazy circumstances that led her to choosing this as a career.

Nicholas does the funniest things....Blue Man Group

Nicholas can sometimes be, by far, the most entertaining of our three children. Don't get me wrong, Noah has said some pretty funny things and sometimes Savannah's one-liners can make you laugh out loud. But Nicholas is such a character that his mother has started calling him Dennis the Menace.

The kid loves bugs and worms and just about any other tiny little creature you can imagine. There's a section in Chapter 4 of Well Water (coming soon) that describes a typical summer day at the Davisson household and it involves Nicholas and a couple of worms that he named “Noah” and “Picnic”. Classic Nicholas stuff right there.

I've also seen him catch frogs and various other creepy crawlers as well as have an intense staring contest with a little blue and black lizard from a very close distance. That lizard, in fact, is so used to Bit by now that it literally comes out and sits right next to him. Luckily, while Nicholas loves these little creatures, he is still wary about touching them so he tends to just look. However, I have seen him launch a frog about twenty feet in the air because it peed on his hand.

He also does just about every other “little boy” thing you can imagine while he’s outside playing. Which is something that we’ve recently let him do on his own. (There’s also an upcoming chapter in Well Water that describes Nicholas’ very first adventure outside by himself). Now that he’s four years old and knows where his boundaries are, we let him go outside and play. And playing outside is his absolute favorite thing to do. There is a drawback, however. A little boy as mischievous as Bit, left alone to his own devices, usually equals disaster.

Every rock in our little front yard rock garden has made its way either to the yard, the street or on the roof. One day, I even came home to see one of the flatter, more brittle of the larger rocks shattered in pieces all over the side walk. I have also come home to see him standing with the garden hose, drenched from head to toe, with the biggest smile on his face. And then there was the time that he decided to “wash Daddy’s car”. Which would have been a sweet gesture except for the fact that he used my grill brush. There are still swirl-shaped scratches down the side of our van that I haven’t been able to buff out.

On top of all these other things, Nicholas is also fond of getting more dirt on him than you would think humanly possible. Rain or shine, you can find him at any given moment playing in the dirt. And not only does he play in it and with it, he rubs it on himself. One day, Shonda even caught the little rascal simply dumping handfuls of dirt down the front of his pants for no reason what-so-ever. Like I said, he’s quite the little character.

Which brings me to the point of my post today. Last week, Nicholas turned four years old. His birthday party is this weekend at our community pool and he’s very excited about that. But last week he was just as excited to receive his first big boy bike as well as a very nice gift from a great friend of ours in New York. The bike was given to him when I got home from work and he rode that thing right up until he had to come in for the night. The other gift, however, came via UPS earlier that afternoon and Shonda let him open and play with it.

The gift, was a set of 3D Crayola Sidewalk Chalk, complete with 3D glasses. It was a very thoughtful gift and Nicholas immediately took it outside after Shonda briefly told him what it was and how it worked. Out he went to begin creating his 3D visions of neon colored works of art. He’d used sidewalk chalk before so Shonda was getting ready for our entire driveway to be covered with brightly colored scribbling. However, she did not find much in the way of four year old art work. She did however find this:

No, he was not auditioning for Blue Man Group. This is just what happens when you leave him alone for even a brief period of time.

Flex Pay Rocks!

I swear my lovely bride has a sixth sense when it comes to HSN and QVC. We've gotten quit a few great items over the years; pillows, full linen sets with 1000 thread count, plants, digital cameras, etc. Heck, I even got an early Father's Day gift of an electric smoker! The great part about all of these items is that she ALWAYS gets a great deal. Always. And, on top of the drastically reduced prices, nine times out of ten, she doesn't even pay for shipping. And she gets to make two or three interest free payments. Her latest find is something we've always wanted but could never justify the cost...until now. I give you...Margaritaville!

Battle Scars

Poor little man...right before he received this little gift from Bit,
I told them both to stop being so rough. Tough lessons learned.

Nicholas says the funniest things…

Our son, Nicholas, just turned four on May 19th. I never forget his birthday, because he was born on the sixth anniversary of the premier of Star Wars One: The Phantom Menace. I know it’s sad, but please don’t hold it against me. It’s just one of those random things I’ve never forgotten, but I digress…

Bit (short for Little Bit, as I like to call him) has been talking for quite a while now. Be he’s just recently begun to speak very clearly and in complete sentences. However, that just means that we can now clearly hear all of the funny remarks that he makes on a daily basis. This is the inaugural post in a series of the random things that Shonda hears from him (and his brother and sister) on a daily basis.

My lovely bride is the sole proprietor of an in-home daycare for infants and toddlers. She has a pretty nice set-up due to our finished walk-out basement and our fairly large, fenced in back yard. The basement, which has been converted into a giant playing area, has all of the necessities a daycare needs: tons of toys, books, tiny people furniture, play sets, a television, etc. It’s great for keeping them occupied during the harsh Missouri winter. The playroom opens up into our yard that is also full of toys as well as giant swing set/climbing wall/slide/tire swing/rope course contraption. So the very moment that the weather gets nice, Shonda usually takes the children outside for the better part of the day.

The only draw back of the back yard, is the fact the for some reason when the spring comes, there are always gigantic bees buzzing around. And always being mindful of the children and not wanting them to get stung, Shonda tries to get rid of them the moment they get too close. Usually, when a bee shows up, she tries to swat it with whatever is handy or zap it with the hose. Lately the bees have been getting away because they are very large and you have to really hit them to kill them. This causes Shonda to try and get the little suckers over and over again. Trying various combinations of beat down sticks and dowsing devices. All the while the children are screaming and shouting words of encouragement.

Just the other day, during a particularly lengthy bee battle, Shonda finally achieved victory with an incredibly good shot with the garden hose spray nozzle. The entire group of children was intently watching this contest and squealed with delight as Shonda sprayed that little sucker just right and he began his slow, spiraling descent to the ground. Once Nicholas saw the bee going down, he looked at his mother with a completely serious and straight face and said, “Mom, he’s saying “May day, May day, May day!”. Then he ran back off to go play in the dirt.

Shonda could do nothing but laugh as she walked over to the bee to put it out of its misery.

Where do kids come up with this stuff?

Well Water...Part Two

When he was finished and suitably clothed, he walked around to Shonda’s side of the bed and turned off the radio, which was still softly mumbling from when the alarm had gone off. He walked towards the bedroom door and towards the downstairs portion of the morning ritual. Chris headed downstairs and As he walked down the carpeted hallway of the second floor of the house, he peeked into the first door on the right. Savannah, as usual, was still sound asleep. Chris could hardly make out that anyone was in the bed at all because she had piled up a couple of comforters and assorted pillows and stuffed animals, so that all he could see was a small tuft of very blond hair. He blew her a kiss and started for the stairs.

As he approached the stairs he looked passed the half open door into his oldest son Noah’s bedroom. The boy, too, was still asleep. Unlike his older sister, Noah had thrown all of his covers off during the night and was now sleeping sideways on his bed in the fetal position. Both of his hands were clasped tightly between his legs and his head was hanging off the edge of the bed. Chris shut the door completely and decided to be preemptive and get their youngest child, Nicholas, out of bed before he started his own version of the morning ritual.

They had never discovered the exact time when Nicholas usually began his day. They weren’t sure if he worked his way up to the “grand finale” of his ritual or if he popped straight out of bed with guns blazing. All they knew was that what their youngest child did on a daily basis was quite possibly the most annoying thing that any living person on the entire planet could ever do while others were trying to sleep.

Nicholas, or “Bit” as his father called him (“Bit” being short for “little bit”), was 3 years old. He was a firecracker of a little boy with pale blonde hair and deep blue eyes. He had a very intense attitude towards life, as most three year olds do, and was just beginning to speak in full sentences. About a year earlier, Bit had started to wake up well before the rest of the household by about half an hour or so. Chris surmised that in those early days he simply woke up and then sat in his bed until someone came into to get him. Once Nicholas got tired of waiting in his bed, he began to get out of bed and wait by his door. When the sheer boredom began to get the better of him, he eventually switched to crying until his door opened. The problem with this was that no one could hear him crying while they were sound asleep. Noah and Savannah could tune out an artillery barrage while sleeping, and mommy and daddy’s room was just too far away for them to hear him. He would continue to cry until someone, anyone, noticed him and released him from his morning prison. Usually, it was when Chris or Shonda were on their way downstairs that they would hear the crying and see a tiny little arm sticking all the way out from underneath the bedroom door.

So when all of these actions did not produce the desired effect that Bit was looking for, he finally stumbled upon one that did. Once Bit realized that crying was an effort in futility, he switched to a more direct approach. When he woke up, he would get out of bed and lay on the floor directly by his door. While on this back he would lift his feet up and place them on the door. Then he would begin to kick.

It would be very slow at first. A rhythmic “thump…thump…thump” that you could even consider hypnotic under different circumstances. That hypnotic thump would then turn into a soft drumming sound that you couldn’t quite make out, especially if you were sound asleep. As he sped his feet up, you couldn’t quite make out what the sound was, you just know that something wasn’t quite right with the morning time serenity.

Then, as if he was the entire timpani section of the St. Louis Symphony being lead by a world class director, there would come a crescendo of sound…accompanied by a powerful, escalating vibration that you could feel throughout the house. Bit could pound his feet on his door so quickly that the resulting tremor literally shook the entire second floor of their two-story home. And then to accentuate this musical interlude of domestic percussion, he would highlight his performance with a two-footed door pound that could actually hurt your ears if you were too close. A few times, when Chris and Shonda had been downstairs while Bit was waking up from a nap, they could actually see the water in their drinking glass vibrate and picture frames shift on their nails.

But as annoying as this single act was, Chris had always had to give props to his baby boy because he always got the desired result from this action. He had tried to ignore it the first few times thinking that Bit would get tired of that too. But eventually Chris realized he just needed to suck it up and go get the kid, otherwise the entire house would be awake and then he’d be the bad guy for letting it happen.

So Chris, hoping to avoid an encore performance of bedroom door percussion, opened up Bit’s door and stepped inside. His room was still dark with only a thin beam of sunlight coming through a crack in his very dark and heavy curtains. Chris walked over and gently whispered “Good morning little man”. Bit immediately woke up and then jumped into his daddy’s arms. Chris scooped him up and they both went downstairs together. As they passed the other kids’ rooms, Nicholas raised one finger to his lips and said “shhh” with a very serious look on his face. His father laughed and they both went down the steps.

Party at the Moontower…Part 4: The Next Day

That next morning, we had all made plans to meet at the local Cracker Barrel for breakfast. Eating at a public place for us is no small chore. The reason is because with three small children, two of them rambunctious boys, you never know just how your eating experience is going to turn out. And on top of that, the Cracker Barrel just has too many things to get in trouble with. The little triangle shaped peg game didn’t last but five seconds as it was intended to be used. The golf tees quickly turned into flying objects as did the wooden triangles, and I had to remove all traces of them from our table.

Everyone had ordered and we were patiently waiting for our food. This period is the part about eating out that Shonda and I absolutely hate. With three kids, the domino effect takes place. One of them starts to get hyper and act out and by the time they’ve been calmed down and reprimanded, another one starts right in. Luckily, we hadn’t had to correct any of them yet. However, it was during our wait for food that both boys had to use the rest room at the same time (of course).

I begrudgingly followed them to the bathroom, hoping that there wouldn’t be anyone else in there. Unfortunately, there was and there were none of the lowered children’s urinals at all. So the boys and I entered into the only open stall and they prepared to go potty. This is no small task to oversee. I have to make sure that they don’t touch anything with their hands or any other exposed part. I also have to make sure that Nicholas doesn’t have erratic aim as he has only been house-broken for a few months. Things started off just fine, but Nicholas leaned a little too far back and his “stream” left the bowl. To my horror, it began splashing all over the side of the stall and eventually began to trickle down to the floor. Noah was staring at me with a very concerned look on his face. I quickly picked Nicholas up, hoping to manually aim him in the right direction. Unfortunately, I aimed too low and he peed directly onto the left shoe of the person sitting in the next stall over. As I gasped at this new development I quickly re-aimed him again. Only this time he squirmed and I almost lost my grip. This caused be to aim him directly at Noah. The poor little man could do nothing but stare in horror at his little brother as Nicholas peed all over his shirt. Noah began to cry and I quickly grabbed both of them and bolted out of the restroom, hoping the person who was minding his business in the next stall was not finishing up as well.

The rest of the day was uneventul after that.

Party at the Moontower…Part 3: The Ceremony

At about an hour before sunset, the ceremony began. The grooms were waiting on the front porch of the bait shop with the preacher. There was a wrought iron arch adorned with tiny flowers in the middle and the all three were waiting patiently for the brides to come down. All of those in attendance had pulled their lawn chairs over to the front yard of the bait shop. Everyone sat gawking at the grooms, which was making them visibly nervous. They were also shouting words of encouragement like “Take your hats off!” and “don’t run!” The general mood was light and relaxed and the sky had even grown lighter as the storm clouds were clearing the area.

The moment finally arrived and the bridal party emerged from the upstairs of the bait shop and began to descend the steps. At the bottom, the brides’ father took one arm in each of his and they walked up to the make-shift alter on the front porch. They all took their places on either side of the grooms and preacher. It was quite a large group of ladies with, curiously, no men. On the brides’ side, there was my wife and Chrishell as well as a few other family friends. I noticed that my daughter Savannah was acting as the ring bearer. I privately mused if she was asked to do this task or went out of her way to offer her services.

On the grooms’ side (again, the only men were the grooms and the preacher) there were a few people I’d never seen before in my life. But one lady really caught my attention. I’m not trying to be mean, but she was very heavy and was wearing a strapless purple dress. I had flashes of a popular children’s show about an imaginary purple dinosaur whose name starts with a “B”. Oddly enough, another guest made the comment that he could not get “I Heard It Through The Grapevine” out of his head and found himself humming the tune all evening. Apparently he had images of the California Raisins.

All in all, the wedding party looked great and the ceremony was lovely, however short and sweet. I was asked by Shonda to take pictures of the event and I had a blast doing so. However, I quickly learned that it’s difficult to take good pictures with one hand while the other holds a bottle, so I stuck my appetizer in my back pocket. Again, I was oblivious to the fact that I was at a small town, Southern Baptist wedding and therefore did not notice the whispers going on behind my back. I also did not realize that I was greatly offending many of the older folks, including the preacher, by drinking a beer. I’ve been to dozens of Catholic weddings and the minute the reception begins, the drinks get poured. Hell, I’ve even seen a priest or two have a cocktail during my lifetime.

When I finally realized what was going on, I found that I wasn’t the only one who was the source of tension. Graham, too, was drinking a beer and even Tabatha had popped a top when the ceremony was over. Ranae, the girls' mother, was apparently in the middle of a heated argument with RJ (one of her newest sons-in-law, mind you) about how the keg of beer she had purchased was for the reception and not for Tabatha and RJ’s trailer afterwards. This little tiff had set off a chain of events and the name calling started shortly after that. In the span of about an hour, we had two groups of people: those who wanted to start the party and those who did not drink at all or who wanted to wait for the preacher to leave. Or to further explain: our side of the family verses RJ’s side of the family.

“Trash” was a word that was thrown around by both sides. The large purple woman was by far the biggest antagonist of the whole group and even recruited a plump old man in her catcalls and insults of various women in our group. At one point, someone said something regarding Chrishell that was not nice at all. I’m going to chalk it up to complete jealousy and rudeness, and that’s putting it mildly. Chrishell endured it all though, and never lost her cool one time. Graham, however, being the southern gentleman that he is, did confront the old man who had joined in the name calling with the big purple woman. Ironically, things calmed down directly after that and everyone eventually started to have a good time. The keg was tapped and the girls were enjoying their favorite drink: a new sensation called a “Fuzetini” made from the fitness drink Fuze and Vodka. It’s all the rage in the New York clubs. I was acting as bartender and making them very well. I even got the girls’ grandmother to try one, which she thoroughly enjoyed.

Eventually the sun went down and the DJ began playing his mix. Unfortunately for him, the only logical place for him to set up all of his equipment was directly next to the portable toilet. He had to endure that scent all night on top of all the other aromas. The poor bastard.

So there you have it. We drank. We ate. We endured the stench of rotten shrimp bits and cow patties. We danced. We played. And all in all, the evening turned out just fine.

Party at the Moontower…Part 2: Getting Ready

When we were first told of the plans for this wedding/reception, there was mention that the ceremony would be outside, and that the reception would be in a barn. The image that I had in my head was probably the same one that you have right now. However, when I arrived at the “barn”, what I had imagined was not even remotely close. Not by a long shot.

I pulled into a driveway on a piece of land that had two buildings. One was a little house that had a wooden deck practically all the way around it. The other, was a two story building (previously a residence) that served as a bait shop. There was a porch on the front and a wooden staircase that went up the side of the building to the second story. On the back of this building was also a small addition, making it a fairly good sized structure. I pulled into a small paved parking lot and walked the rest of the way up the drive. There were already a half dozen cars there, and I could see that Graham was not alone. I spotted him in the small crowd and asked for an update. He just shook his head and smiled. The wind had picked up, causing me to look up into the sky. The clouds were beginning to churn and it started to spit a little rain. It looked like things could start to unravel on our little soirée at any time.

“Where’s the barn?” I asked. He pointed to the small room at the back of the second building. “Right there,” he said. I was confused because I was expecting a barn barn and not a building that folks were calling a barn, which wasn’t really a barn at all. The whole setup was basically this building and a paved driveway that wrapped around it. As we walked behind the building I noticed that there was a grill going already, but the smells of barbeque were being edged out by the fragrances of nature. All around the property were fenced in pastures and about a dozen cows. The fences butted up right next to the pavement of the driveway and the sources of the “fragrance of nature” were abundant and very close to the “barn”. There was also another smell that I could not quite make out, but was definitely overpowering both the grill and the contents of the pasture.

Graham had gone over what he’d done and seen since he’d been there. They had set up one table at the back of the building and had put a plastic table cloth on it. A few folks had brought various covered dishes and these were helping to hold the tablecloth down from the wind. He’d also brought up a port-a-potty from several dozen yards away and placed it in what he felt was a strategic location, which was right next to a concrete pad, off to the side of the main area, that was about twenty feet by twenty feet.

“That smell,” Graham continued in a quiet voice “is from a big bucket of shrimp that had been sitting there for a VERY long time. They were using it to feed fish in their pond.” Apparently, that morning, the owner of the property had decided to pour out that bucket of shrimp right on the grass next to our little reception area/driveway. Directly next to what we had figured would be the dance floor and DJ area. Now it all made sense. The smell that was overpowering not only smoke from a grill and fresh cow patties, was the acrid odor of shrimp bits that had been sitting out for who knows how long, festering in the mild heat of a May day. For Christ’ sake, the portable toilet smelled like a flower compared to the stench of rotten shrimp bits. Also that morning, the grooms-to-be had tried to use some chemicals to get rid of the smell and this angered the owner of the bait shop. He had retaliated by locking the doors to the “barn”. Not a big deal, except that all of the tables and chairs that were supposed to be used that evening were in there.

So there we were, Graham and I, amongst people we had never met, considering what to do next. I surveyed the situation and made a decision. The grill was going. The lone table was set up. The dance floor was cleared of debris. The latrine was ready to go. The stench of rotten shrimp bits was in the air. People were showing up. The grooms-to-be, who were there for a brief period, had left to get ready. And since the girls’ mother, who was in charge of this entire shin-dig, was no where to be found, there was nothing left for us to do.

“Our work here is done,” I said. And Graham and I went back to Tabatha’s house.

A few minutes later we were back at Tabatha’s to give our report. The girls were in last minute mode and we couldn’t really bother them with all of the details. Tabatha was on her way to the “barn” and RJ and Jeremy were getting dressed. Ranae, the girls mom, was still no where to be found. “We need to get down there,” Shonda said. Graham went back to change and I started to round up the kids.

A short while later we were back at the bait shop. The number of cars and people had tripled since Graham and I had left and it looked like folks were taking it upon themselves to finish setting things up. There were more tables set up by the first one and the buffet of food was growing larger. People were also bringing their own chairs and other items on which to sit. We all started up the long paved driveway and the girls went up to the little room above the shop, to make last minute adjustments and wait for Charissa, who was on her way. The DJ had shown up and was getting ready to set up his equipment. The preacher was there, going over the last minute details of his service. Our children had spotted group of other kids playing in a nearby field, and went over to join them. The ladies were heading to the outdoor staircase and up into the second story of the bait shop to finish getting ready. Graham and I had suddenly found ourselves with nothing to do.

We spent the next hour or so watching over the kids and I made a few trips to my car to grab Graham and I a few “appetizers”. I saw a few others were already enjoying some Anheuser-Busch products so I didn’t think it would be a big deal. I mean, after all, we were at a wedding. Unfortunately, this Catholic boy had forgotten that he was right in the middle of Southern Baptist country. In retrospect, we probably should have waited.

Party at the Moontower…Part 1: The Arrival

A few days ago, our family celebrated the marriage vows of two of my sisters-in-law; Tabatha and Charissa. They were marrying their long time boyfriends RJ and Jeremy, respectively. What follows is the tale of down home, honest to goodness, Kentucky nuptials. It’s always interesting when two families join via the bonds of holy matrimony. I don’t know if we should classify this as the beginnings of a beautiful relationship between our three groups. Or if it’s the beginning of a “Hatfield’s vs. McCoy’s” or “The House of Montague vs. The House of Capulet” type of situation. I’ll let you be the judge.

We set out early that Saturday morning so that we could get there with enough time to get ready. This is usually no easy task as we have an eight year old daughter, Savannah, and two boys, Nicholas and Noah, aged four and six respectively. And the drive from St. Louis to Benton, KY is four hours at least, but we made it with about two hours until show time. The weather forecast was not looking good and the entire day had been overcast and bleak. And although the rains hadn’t come yet, as soon as we pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, the clouds started looking a little bit darker.

As we were getting out of our car, we saw Graham (Shonda’s sister’s boyfriend) in the parking lot on his phone. We all walked inside together and went to our room. Chrishell (Shonda’s sister) showed up very quickly and we all exchanged hugs and kisses. The ladies left and went down to their grandmother’s room and tried on a few of the dresses they had brought for the ceremony. Graham and I stayed in our room doing a little catching up as it had been almost a year since we’d seen each other (we don’t get to talk on the phone too much). Just as I announced I had brought an “appetizer” of our favorite beer (Corona, of course) the girls showed back up and it was time for us to really start getting ready. Graham and Chrishell left for Tabatha’s house and Shonda started with her own hair and makeup.

I was given three very specific tasks; go and find greeting cards for the brides and grooms, get safety pins (we’d forgotten the boys’ belts) and grab something to eat. I was also instructed to take on of the boys with me, and it didn’t matter to Shonda which one. These may sound like relatively simple tasks. But one thing about rural Kentucky, especially when you’re at a hotel right off the main highway and not actually in a town, is that you’re options for places that may have these things are severely limited. Also, I had chosen to take Noah (simply because he already had shoes on) and with him, you never know which “Noah” you’re going to get.

Shonda was thinking Arby’s, so we headed that way first. I thought I was going to kill all of my birds with one stone when I realized that the Arby’s was actually inside of a truck stop. You know the kind that has a restaurant, convenience store, showers, etc. Usually these types of places have a little bit of everything, so I walked in with high hopes. However, after a lap through the place, I realized that they had none of the items I needed and Noah had worked himself into a spasm because I would not buy him a big giant lollipop. “I NEVER get big giant lollipops!” was literally his response as we left the truck stop. I looked up in the sky and noticed that the clouds were still darkening at a steady pace.

I had asked for directions to the nearest place that may have the cards and safety pins. I was directed to a tiny little town about three miles away because the truck stop cashier was “pretty sure they got that stuff there”. We pulled into the parking lot of the only center of commerce in the immediate area and I quickly noticed a Food Giant grocery store. Great, I thought. All grocery stores have the stuff I need. I walked in and began looking, with Noah still crying about big giant lollipops. Since I knew that I was running out of time, I found a clerk and asked about the cards and safety pins. To my dismay, they did not have anything like that. “But the Dollar General just down the way might,” said the clerk.

So I packed up still heart-broken and lollipop-less Noah and we headed even further down the road to the Dollar General. Luckily, they had everything I needed and the greeting cards were two for one dollar! We made our purchase and retraced our route back to the Arby’s. We got back to the room with little time to spare and barely had eaten our food before Shonda said it was time to go. Shonda looked stunning in her green strapless number and Savannah was as pretty as ever in a white dress with a flower print and a thin white sweater to wear over it. The boys had matching gray shorts and yellow and black sandals with Noah wearing a green polo and Nicholas wearing a red one. For myself, I wanted to blend into the crowd that was going to be there, so I had on jeans and a long sleeve button up shirt. It was definitely a casual dress code.

We piled back in the van and made our way through the tiny towns and back country roads to Tabatha’s house. They live on a nice sized piece of land in a quaint little trailer. Directly in front of the trailer was a shed/garage type of structure. As we pulled up, the entire driveway was full of vehicles and cars were spilling over into the yard, which is where we parked as well. Shonda and Savannah immediately went inside and I and the boys took a quick survey of the land because I knew the boys would want to play outside. I walked around to the back of the trailer only to discover yet another living structure (this one an RV) with a small fenced pasture for some sort of bovine. I also noticed various tractors, lawn mowers, a few jet skis, etc. and decided that the boys should probably stay inside.

As we came back around to the front we were greeted by a very large Doberman named Legend. Legend seemed like a good natured dog, but I was still wary of the children being around him. After a few moments, they all seemed to be getting along well so I left them on the porch and went inside. Tabatha was there as well as Shonda, Chrishell, Grandma Donna and other children and members of the bridal party. I immediately looked for Graham to see if we could have an appetizer before all of the festivities. Graham, unfortunately, was no where to be found. “Nobody has done anything,” Tabatha said when I asked where he was. I was quickly told by all there that things were beginning to unravel and that what they thought was taken care of was not. “There’s nothing set up so Graham went down there by himself to see what he could do,” said Chrishell. I quickly jumped in the car and drove to the reception place to what I could do to help as well.