3. . . .2. . . .1. . . .Blast Off!

Since I'm bringing up the rear of the Baby Boom Generation, and there were no blogs to chronicle the fun things my kids did when they were small (I don't think Al Gore had even invented the internet yet) -- and since I have a plethora of crazy stories rambling through my mind, I thought it might be fun to revisit some of those good ole days. (Plus, I just like to use the word "plethora" whenever I can.) Thus I begin a series entitled "Blasts From the Past" -- figurative blasts mostly, but one or two real blasts just to keep things interesting. Truthfully, this is a veiled, self-indulgent attempt to live in the past which is really an excuse to avoid doing laundry. These will be regular postings, and by regular, I mean random, because I really don't do structure or deadlines very well. Heck, that's why I don't even carry a watch--I find them too judgmental. And "random" fits in better with my busy life, because sometimes I actually need to do laundry.

I had 4 kids in 7 years and there are spaces of time which I just can't (or maybe, won't) remember. Days were filled with all the fun and busy-ness (aka, mayhem) that 4 kids, 2 dogs, one husband, and one 18 pound stray cat named Friendly could muster. I think I had at least one kid in diapers, sometimes two at a time, for about 10 years, without a break. Our family single-handedly kept Kimberly Clark and Proctor and Gamble in business through part of the '80's and into the '90's.

But one particularly hectic evening I remember that I was in a hurry to get myself and my kids out the door to some really important, live-or-die event like soccer practice or grocery shopping. I was busy trying to finish supper, clean up spilled juice, deal with a colic-y infant, answer a relentlessly ringing phone, and referee 2 toddlers. As I hurriedly stirred the pot on the stove, I quickly glanced over my shoulder to supervise yet another spat, and suddenly realized the baby was nowhere to be seen. In a panic I asked the two oldest, "WHERE'S THE BABY?!" I was met with dumbfounded stares, and my son finally said timidly, "Mom. . . .you're holding her." Talk about needing a Calgon moment.

But, Calgon didn't take me too far away. . . Sometimes things were quiet. . . .a little too quiet. . . . . like the scene from Bambi, just before the fire and then all the woodland creatures scramble, "Man's in the forest!!" During one of those moments, I found our 2 year old merrily singing and cleaning the toilet. . . with my toothbrush. Okay, that was scary, but the really scary part was that I wasn't sure just how many times before that she'd helped with the housework, and I didn't know. This is the same (Get outa my hospital!) child who came running into a room where I was sitting and then, unsolicited, announced defiantly, "I didn't touch anything." I'm not sure if the sound barrier was broken as I scrambled into the room where she'd been, and I never found out just what she hadn't touched, but I did replace all the toothbrushes, just in case.

Oh there are so many more stories, but I'm getting hives just reliving it all, so I'll save some for later. We survived those years and good thing--three are teenagers now. No worries there. . . right?

So, the first "blast" has been fired, so to speak, and is in the virtual books. And from a mom who's lived almost through to the other side, there is a light (or a train, maybe!) at the end of the tunnel and I'd never, ever trade the journey along the way, even for a new toothbrush. :-)

What a blessing.