The principal at the school where I work, and where my children attend, was walking through the cafeteria the other day when I saw her stop to talk to my son.  A few minutes later, I took a big gulp as she approached the kitchen where I was working. 

Not that I was terribly worried, as his blatant honesty has prepared me for anything.

Let’s review, shall we?

He once told a doctor that she had a, “really, really, really big nose” and he told an elderly woman that she was dead.  He saw a wrinkled, old lady at the store and said that she needed to use lotion and has even complimented large people…by telling them that he likes their “chinny chin chins.”

And, let’s not forget when he named his testicles, Racer and Jennifer, then proceeded to tell complete strangers about his “babies”.

My son keeps things interesting.  Although he has a whole lot of quirks, there is one part of his behavior that is constant; you never know what he is going to say.

I was thinking of this when the principal walked up to me and stated, “Diane, I have to tell you what your son just said.”

I began to form an apology in my head, but then she continued, “He wanted to wish me a happy afternoon and tell me that he’s been praying for my sister.  He says the most appropriate things!”

To which I replied, “Give him a minute.”

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On Saturday night, our family visited a haunted house and forest.  I hate scary things.  Do you see where this is going?

My kids had never seen me in a situation like this, although I have told them about the time that I sat in the car at a haunted house while my friends went in.  When we pulled into the parking lot, I burst into tears because I was overwhelmed with fright.  I was 25 years old.

I have always disliked scary stuff of any kind, but real life incidents involving a peeping Tom and an ex-boyfriend who stalked me made things worse.  Now I have two dogs.  And, two guns.

But, on Saturday I was in the middle of the dark woods and my guns were at home.  Plus, this was a Boy Scout function and I’m pretty sure it’s extra illegal to shoot a Scout.

When people were emerging from piles of leaves or simply walking up quietly behind me so that when I looked over my shoulder to see the empty trail, but instead I saw a monster face practically sitting on my shoulder, my choices were to a) scream b) pee my pants c) begin yelling “small children” in order to get the goons to back off or d) all of the above.

Or, it’s possible I did all of those things and used my 11 year old daughter as a human shield, wherein I picked her up and held her out in front of me as if offering my child as a sacrifice to a zombie.

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About a week ago, I had a nightmare. 

I dreamed that there was a knock at our front door.  Keep in mind, a knock at the door is a daily occurance around here.  We live in close proximity to quite a few schools and there are a lot of politically active people in our neighborhood.  Someone is always fundraising or trying to get you to swing your vote.

In this nightmare, I ignored the knock.  So the dream was, virtually, reality because that is exactly what I do when I’m awake, except that I usually see the person coming and shut the blinds first.

In my dream, I ignored the knock, only to hear three, consecutive knocks a few moments later.  Against my better judgement, I opened the door only to be pushed back into my foyer by an intruder with a gun.

Then I woke up.

This nightmare will stay with me for awhile.  I know that.  I clearly remember two nightmares I had when I was eight years old, a series of them that I had when my ex-boyfriend was harassing me and one a few years ago about me, my husband, our two kids and the SUV in which we were riding going over the side of a cliff.  Whoever said that dreams are rainbows and unicorns doesn’t know a thing about my brain.

Last night, in my real life, someone rang the doorbell and I ignored it.  A few moments later, there were three, consecutive rings.  It was just like what I had experienced in my dream.

My 11 year old daughter asked, “Are you going to answer the door?”

I replied, “No.”

She questioned me further.  “Why?  Are you thinking about that dream you had?”

“No”, I lied.

She was on to me.  She glared at me and said, “You know, Mom, you can’t let your nightmares control your life.”

I may not be as smart as she is, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t open that door.

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1.  If your husband spends his Sunday morning running a marathon and you spend the same Sunday morning chasing him around the city, with two kids and you hold an eight year old on your shoulders for an hour, you will both be sore.

2.  If you’re driving to and from mile markers for hours, you will have to stop at Tim Horton’s for breakfast and Wendy’s for lunch.  You know, out of necessity.  Your husband, on the other hand, will run 26.2 miles on two bananas and some peanut butter crackers.

3.  When you spend 45 minutes creating a great sign that says things like, “Keep it up!” and “Be strong!”, don’t be surprised if your son sees your finished project and decides that your sign is the perfect paper on which to stamp a pink butterfly.

4.  Don’t be shocked when you walk nine blocks to your viewing spot and as soon as you arrive, your son tells you he has to poop.

5.  Which is why you should always store a training potty and kitty litter bags in the back of your SUV.

6.  Then you will count your blessings that your eight year old is still small enough to use it.

7.  Much in the same way that when you have been playing in the ocean, you can later close your eyes and still feel the waves…when you watch a marathon full of people go by, you will later close your eyes and see runners.

8.  When your husband approaches the finish line and your daughter sneaks through the fence to run the last stretch with him, you will feel so much pride that your heart might burst.

9.  Then you’ll watch your husband complete his race to the sound of applause and cheers of the crowd.

10.  And you will listen, then cringe, as the race announcer mispronounces his name.

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