And the jury is…

Why, doggone it, can mothers never take a break from crisis praying, huh?? Always a fire to put out, or a fire that was just put out, or a fire getting started that will need to be put out. I’m getting cramps in my thighs from this long-term kneeling position.

When he came home feeling about the color of the shirt in that picture, he was asking me, “Why can’t I go tubing? Why can’t I do (you fill in any number of dangerous activities for a person with a broken bone, including ripstiking, which is where this all began)…”

Okay, someone catch me while I fall over in a dead faint at the notion that he would still like to try tubing with his friends this weekend!!!

Wanna know what I said?

“If you’re independently wealthy, be my guest. Otherwise, you will sit around for three weeks and do nothng but grow a bone. You will open your mouth while your father and I throw every dairy product from A to Z down your gullet.” And he said, “I will if you get me ice cream.”

Sighing, looking for wherever it is that mothers go to resign…

The Restless Squaw

P.S. – The next picture I post will probably be the one where I’m doing a dead dog pose…all fours in the air, tongue hanging out on the ground. I give up!