My husband really is the coolest guy I know. I mean, he honestly goes from flying a helicopter to wrestling bad guys to the ground to changing diapers and finally to taking drunk drivers to jail … all in a day’s work. Seriously!

Tonight he was late for dinner. This isn’t too unusual… It happens quite a lot to wives of police officers everywhere. I know.

Tonight, however, he was late because he was working on a 69-year-old woman who was unconscious. He and others were dispatched to her house for a 9-1-1 hang-up. (These happen a lot, but they check on all of them.)

He wasn’t the first one there, but he did have more training than those there before him. He walked in with his AED Defibrillators and put them to use. He also did the breathing portion of CPR. When the paramedics and firefighters got there, they worked with Nate.

He followed them to the hospital and by the time they arrived, the lady was “back!”

Isn’t he super cool?!

I mowed the lawn today. I’m one of those weird people who actually loves doing it. Something about the smell of freshly cut grass reminds me of summer … and baseball.

Unfortunately, what usually takes about 45 minutes to do took me 2 hours. We’ve had so much rain that it’s been more than 3 weeks since it’s been done. So, it was very slow going for me. I literally had to inch the mower through most of the back yard. The grass was so high the mower was easily bogged down and died often. Good times.

Speaking of good times, my boys had some today. When you let them play outside (or really do anything at all), I’ve learned to be very specific:

“Don’t play in the water puddles.”

“Don’t step in dog hooey.” (Yes, we call it hooey around here.)

“Don’t throw sand.”

“Don’t lay your popsicle in the dirt and expect to eat more of it later.”

“Don’t climb the fence.”

“Don’t throw dirt.” Etc, etc, etc…

Well, I failed to mention: “Don’t thow grass clippings on your brothers.”

They did. Over and over and over… until they all looked like something from the Muppet Show.

They had fun, though, and no one got hurt. So maybe their new game is all the rage. At least around here.

Andy was just “doing school,” as he calls it. He has a pre-school workbook and he loves it when I’m his teacher. I hope he always has this much enthusiasm for homeschooling.

The sheet he was doing tonight was all about the letter ‘e.’ He was to circle the pictures that started with the letter e. There were four: elephant, egg, pie and envelope. He got the first two easily and knew to cross out pie… when he got to the envelope, he proudly said, “I know this one starts with e!”

I prompted for his logic: “And why? What’s the word?”

His smart reply: “E-mail!”

Well, that would start with e!

… check for Cheetos.

Brady may have been there. And he may have invented his own version of basketball using a floor lamp and, yes, Cheetos.

My work is never done.

PS– Yes, I dusted out the lamp before I replaced the bulb. But don’t bring your white gloves with you the next time you come. I hate to dust.

When our first son was born, we were given lots of clothes for him in various sizes. He had a huge closet all to himself, so I hung most of his things in his closet. When it came time to find something, I was thankful for these:

The size dividers I have aren’t exactly like these, but you get the idea. I bought mine at Babies ‘R’ Us, but you can also get similar ones on Amazon.com. These clever size dividers fit most closet rods and are a life saver — especially when I had two more sons in less than two years. Three little boys, one closet and lots of similar looking outfits. These things are a must!They really work for me. Now, be sure to check out Rocks in My Dryer for more “Works for Me Wednesday” tips.

That might sound like an odd request, but that’s what I tell my husband everyday before he leaves to go do work. Right after, “I love you,” of course.

See, my darling husband has chosen two rather dangerous jobs: police officer and helicopter pilot. Any time he’s late, it’s easy to start thinking he may not come home. In the last few months, he’s attended a line of duty death for an officer and seen a crash at the airport he uses most. So, I’m not a pessimist, just a realist.

We’ve seen God’s hand of protection on him again and again. Because of our faith, my husband always promises he will come home safely (”or you can be mad at me”).

The above phrase has become so much a part of our house that our boys now tell Daddy the same thing when he leaves. Except Connor sounds more like: “Bye Daddy. I ‘ove you. Carefoo. Home to be.”

I never realized how much Connor has picked up until he killed an ant last night in the bathroom. I told him he could flush it down the toilet. He excitedly did, then waved down the bowl and said, “See ya. Carefoo. Home to be!”

And we thought they weren’t listening!

Here’s what we do for fun when things are slow:

Now, here are the answers to your questions:

1. Yes, everyone is OK, aside from breathing in more smoke than we like.

2. Yes, this did require the use of a fire extinguisher, which I thank the Lord we had on hand.

3. No, we did not try to eat this.

4. No, I did not cook the taco shells too long. They were honestly in there, like, 30 seconds. That’s it. I saw smoke, opened it up and flames shot up the front of my stove. Big time.

5. Yes, my children obeyed perfectly and did exactly what I told them to (for once). And yes, they excitedly told Daddy, “We didn’t get to call the firefighters, ’cause Mommy put it out.”

6. So, no, Nate was not home.

7. Yes, we still had tacos… just soft shell instead of these extra crispy ones.

8. No, I’m not exactly sure what happened, but I think it had to do with lots of dust and such in (under) the broiler. I haven’t used it in more than 4 years.

9. Yes, thankfully, it’s all clean and you can’t tell what happened. Amazing, though.

10.  We slept with the windows open and fans blowing outward, so, no… our house doesn’t smell too bad now.

Thank you for your concern. Please direct any further questioning to my mental health professionals while I put on this white coat. I can’t handle any more excitement.

OK, not really, but my Mom (Nana) was up visiting again this weekend. She and I took the kids to Buckely Homestead today. It’s a county park, but it’s set up to be a living museum of early farm living. The kids, of course, loved the animals and the outdoors. We saw huge horses and sheep, cows, pigs, chickens and geese.

Evan liked watching the chickens.

The boys liked all the animals, but seemed the most entertained by the fence. (I think I could sell this as a postcard if I turned it black and white, eh?)

We also saw a giant garden and an apple orchard with an unusual type of apple:

All in all, it was a fun way to burn off some energy and see some stuff we don’t get to see everyday. We also left with a very important lesson (and a photo commentary on my everyday life):

For some crazy reason, we’ve started a tradition in our family that every baby’s first taste of “real food” is bananas. Now that Evan is seven-and-a-half months old (which is like five-and-a-half months adjusted age in her preemie world), we let her have her first taste. Here’s her reaction to bananas:

She tried them for the first time on Saturday, and she’s not really sure what to think of them. She, of course, ate very little. I’m not sure if she even trusts Nate anymore.

For days, Connor has been saying something that sounds just like “fried chicken.” It’s those exact words, but the context is all wrong, so I knew it couldn’t mean that.

This morning he was carrying around a small Magna Doodle Pro (one of those magnetic drawing thingies that gives you a clean slate with one swipe of the eraser bar). He would scribble something on, stop, try to erase his drawing, and then he would look at me and nod and say, “Fried Chicken!” Then he’d grin.

I couldn’t figure him out. Finally I said, “Fried chicken, Bo?”

He looked at me all confused and said, “No, Mamma. Fried Chicken!”

It was then that it hit me! “Try again?!”

“Yup, mamma. I fried chicken.”

So, if at first you don’t succeed, fry, fry chicken.