No, my name is MARTIN.

Wow, it's been a long month. Notice the lack of posts last month? Yep, there's a reason. Here it is.

The in-laws took Philosopher Child and Viking Toddler for 3 weeks out of state to their home. Awesome, right? I was so excited for the quiet. But, having never been without my kids for more than over night (and that was only one of them, not both), as we got closer to the time, I got anxious. Then I started getting panic attacks. In short, was sick to my stomach for much of that three weeks. Sucked.

But, they are home now. We flew out to get them and we all arrived back in our little but well loved house late last night.

But you know what's fun? Airport security. More specifically, going through airport security with children with imaginations. See, our kids have been watching Wild Kratts lately (warning, there's music when you open that link), and Viking Toddler has been telling everyone that his name is Martin, as in Martin Kratt. Hint, it's not. So, as we got to the entrance to security, a TSA agent was scrutinizing our licenses very, very close with a very suspicious eye. He looked at Philosopher Child and said, "Is your name [Philosopher Child]?" Philosopher Child dutifully nodded. The agent then looked at Viking Toddler and asked, "Is your name [Viking Toddler]?"

And then our dear, sweet Viking Toddler said, "No, my name is Martin." When I'm watching toys get removed from babies' hands and grandmothers patted down, this is not the time for that sort of humor. But, funny in hindsight.

Misobject

Misobject: noun. An object that you have no idea where it came from or how it came to be where you found it.

Did you miss me? I missed you! I was called out of town rather suddenly (everything is fine), and haven't had much time to write.

However, something unusual happened upon my return, which was yesterday, in case you were wondering. But again, I ramble.

I planned on making bread today. As I was cleaning off the table, I found a child's slipper. Just one. And although that is not remarkable in and of itself, what is odd is that it is not ours. I don't recognize it even a little bit. It certainly does not belong to my children, and since we have been away for almost 2 weeks, coming back to find it is a bit strange.

I thought, well, some companies send out samples of their wares in hopes that you will buy some. Maybe that's what this is. Unlikely, but not impossible. I asked Husband about it, since he's the one who brought in the mail, but he didn't know what I was talking about.

So here we have one odd mystery slipper.

I have a suspicion of where it came from. I'll have to do some more investigating.

Potty Problem

Potty Problem: noun. A situation when a child has to go to the bathroom, but can't get to one.

So, I'm back home and back to blogging. I was away attending a wedding, but didn't want to announce to the world that I would not be home.

A funny thing happened on our flight out. Well, funny in hindsight, anyway. The captain kept the seatbelt sign on almost the whole flight. Occasionally, he would remind the flight attendants that they needed to be strapped in, though I'm not sure why. The flight was almost perfectly smooth.

Monkey Son #1 announced that he had to go potty. The seatbelt light was still on, but I thought it would be OK. Like I said, the flight was smooth, and when I looked at the bathroom behind us, I could see one of the flight attendants standing casually in the galley area. Must be OK to get up, I decided, and took Monkey Son #1 the the back of the plane.

There was a second flight attendant in the back of the plane that I didn't see, and when I got to the bathroom, she looked at me and told me in a voice that was both friendly and rude that the fasten seatbelt light was still on, and essentially, I should be in my seat. I said OK and took Monkey Son #1 back, having not visited the bathroom.

A short time later, someone in the cockpit or one of the attendants made the announcement over the speaker that the seatbelt light was still on, and the captain would turn it off when it was smooth enough. I was floored. The ride couldn't possibly get any smoother. What exactly was he looking for?

Poor Monkey Son #1 spent a lot of time just staring at the seatbelt light, waiting for it to turn off. It never did.