Another reflective installment of Have you Ever?

The following account may or may not be based on actual events. Most likely not, but probably so perhaps of course.

Have you ever, dear reader, set up a time when two lady neighbors could stop by your house just for some friendly conversation and some contact with the outside world. Your neighbor calls you the night before said appointment just to remind you. You then go to sleep thinking of how you will need to make a little extra effort on the morrow to look presentable.

Upon awakening in the morning, you groggily carry on about your usual routine, of course having forgotten that visitors are coming. It’s not until the doorbell rings at 11:00 A.M. sharp that you remember your brain is mush and that you shouldn’t have trusted that gray matter of yours to remind you of things.. You should have posted signs on the toilet as well as on the milk jug, both places you are sure to look.

As you curse your forgetfulness and scatter-brained-ness, you start to panic. Your cheeks begin to burn as they always do when you are flustered. Should you ignore the bell? Should you feign sickness and ask them to come back at a later date?  Should you answer the door and act like you have no idea who they are, then tell them no solicitors please?

These questions run circles in your mind over the course of just seconds. And after twenty or so Mississippis have passed, the pressure has reached the maximum and you decide to just invite them in, to your real life. Not before putting on a hoodie though for heaven's sake.

So with unsightly hair, pajamas on, no makeup, no bra, and remnants of yesterday’s fort making still scattered across the living room, you answer the door, and prepare yourself for unimaginable embarrassment.

Well, have you ever?

Wherein I prove to my son that I am awesome.

Today I built a fort out of blankets and chairs. It wasn’t for me, although I confess I did fall asleep inside the confines of that haven of sheets, just ever so briefly. But that’s not the point.

No, I built the fort for Bosco because he was driving me insane today in a way only a three year old can. And I can’t leave out little Bubba. Bless his heart he’s got the sniffles again. I feel for the poor chap. Really I do. But his mood swings were making me break out in cold sweats, and I couldn’t stuff chocolate in my face fast enough to cope.

Anyway, I tried to remember what my mother and aunts made all of us cousins do so they could bond, share some sisterly cackles (I'm serious they cackle when they get around each other), and talk about Donny Osmond. Well if it was summer they’d fill up the wading pool and wait for someone to get hurt. And if it was winter they told us to go in the play room, listen to Amy Grant or Mariah Carey, and build a castle (Out of fifteen plus cousins only three are boys so they had to suffer in silence. Silence!) Really it was just a glorified tent that filled up the whole room but it occupied us for hours. Smart ladies those women in my family are.

I knew I could not go wrong continuing the tradition, minus the music selection. And I was right. Would you like to know what Bosco told me after I had successfully thrown some blankets over a few chairs? Of course you would. Oh it’s just so deliciously sweet. In a very proud, grateful tone he said, “Mommy. You are a genius. I love this fort castle you built. I love you too.” Oh.my.word. If I had known this is all it would take for him to realize the brilliance of his mother I would have given birth to him in a tent fort years ago.

But if I’m being honest, the fort/tent was not one of my best. That's why I didn't take a picture of it. The eight year old me could have done a far more impressive job seeing as how she would have been able to bend over pain free and not be afraid she’d get stuck in that position.

Little Bosco doesn't know that though. And don't you dare tell him.