Evidence that I live in a bit of a madhouse:

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About twenty minutes after midnight Ryder places his paws on my face to alert me that he would like to exit the home to use the facilities. (Or to lie down outside where it is cooler than inside our home. Poor hairy fellow.)

I note the time. Again. 12:20 am.

The Yukon’s back door is cranked wide open. And has been since we loaded the car for a camping trip – oh, I don’t know – SIX hours ago.

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My eleven year old is sound asleep. Wearing a camping shirt, cargo shorts and with his knife/multipurpose tool attached securely to his belt loop.

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My eight year old is sound asleep as well. Wearing a pair of tights. Only a pair of tights.

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One recent morning I pulled back the shower curtain to turn on the water. I was greeted by a bath tub full of cold water. Inside the bath tub filled with water was also an entire outfit of clothing – shorts, shirt, underwear.

“What’s up with the bath tub situation?” I inquire.

“Oh, last night when we were washing our feet Bergen accidentally fell completely in the tub. With his clothes on.”

Which, honestly, doesn’t entirely explain why those clothes are still in the bath tub but the boy is not.

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Our bathroom has the capability of having four lightbulbs in it at any time. Three above the sink and one in the ceiling.

Last night it seemed extra dark in there.

Which is when I officially noticed, only one light bulb of the four is actually working any longer.

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It’s so hot upstairs in the kids bedroom but the air conditioning window unit is still outside in the barn. It’s awfully heavy. London is just short of threatening to ask the UPS man to help us carry it in, she is so desperate to be cool at night. Every night I tell her I will make a plan the next day but during the next day we all forget. Until bedtime and the heat hits our faces like an oven when you enter their room.

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I’m a terrible cat owner. When we left for our Colorado trip I made arrangements for the dog and the chickens. About Day Three I get a text from Jo. “Was I supposed to be feeding the cats too?”

Don’t worry Animal Activists – the cats got fed. (My dad always said cats earned their keep by eating mice anyway.)

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And that story reminds me of the time we left on a trip last year sometime – maybe the Texas flight one, I can’t recall. I left very specific directions for our friend of the schedules for feeding all the animals. Back then we were quite the farm – birds, chickens, rabbits, goats, dogs, cats.

I received a semi-frantic text declaring, “I’m terribly sorry, but I just cannot locate your rabbit. Have I lost it?”

I laughed till my sides hurt.

I had completely forgotten that the day before I had given our rabbit away – and its entire cage too. No wonder poor Cami couldn’t find our rabbit! Just an empty shell of a spot where a rabbit cage once stood – and a pile of rabbit pellets for proof.

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