TAGS AND TOGS AND TUGS

Called my sister that my handsome husband gave me. "What's your husband's daughter's new daughter's name again?" Well it's not as stupid as it sounds, I mean his kids are popping babies out faster than an automated tennis ball machine. So she tells me.

"What're you doin'?" says she.

"Putting gift tags on Christmas presents."

"Putting gift tags on Christmas presents. You goober. *sigh* I have to go. I have real work to do."

That's not what she said, but that's what I heard when she said whattheheckevershesaid. It was the tone. I heard it, yes I did. There were different words, but THAT's what she said. Hmmmph. I know because I have heard the same thing come out of other people's brains, and some actually say it from their lips, too. Yes. I do my shopping early. And that's all I have to say about THAT.

So I got off the phone with sister in law and composed a broadcast email to the parents of Jr. Mint's preschool classmates, for whom I am the PAH-TAY Mom. (This, for those of you who are not cool enough to know, is what used to be called Room Mom.) We are doing a group donation to MUST ministries. Rather than each family donating a pair of mittens or socks which is what they're doing church/preschool wide, we're putting a twist on it, compiling our donations and purchasing an entire coat/hat/mitten/sock SET, letting the children compose a letter to the receiving child and enclose it in the box, wrap it, then take it down to the tree themselves and place it underneath. As I looked at this coat I got so dirt cheap at Old Navy (they're on SUCH great sales this time of the year.....) I thought well, what could it possibly hurt to stick a toy in each pocket. . . .) hee hee. Who has to know?

Now then. Went out to meet #1 son today at the bus, which stops to let him off directly in front of the house. Jr. Mint goes out with me and runs the front yard while we wait. Laps. Gets the wiggles out. So right as we see the bus coming, he heads straight for me from across the front yard and hollers MOM!!! So I turn around and look his way and darned if he doesn't tuck that head and those shoulders one shoulder lower like a FOOTball player!! I was skeert. Did I move to protect myself from being plowed??? I DID just have surgery on the shoulder, and my joints are arthritic past my years, but if I moved he was likely to go straight on out into the street. Apparently I was the break. So. When you're a Mom you stay. I prepared. I planted my feet. I bent my knees. I protected my . . er, I got ready. Five feet short he plants his right foot, stops for effect, raises his head, brings his arms straight out to the sides palms to the sky as if in a production number, grins and says, "GOTCHAAAAAAA!"

When my muscles finally relaxed, Jr. Mint was hugging me and laughing and #1 son's bus had stopped to let him off. When he hugs he grabs my pants, it never fails that he always pulls them down an inch or two before I can grab them and pull them back up and make him stop. One of these days he's going to pull them off before I can react. I just knew today would be the day - right there in front of 65 elementary school kids - friends of #1 son's, no less. How much worse could it be? Gotta get him to quit doing that. I guess I would've just turned around and said "GOTCHAAAAAA!" What else can you do???