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This morning was more stressful than most. We noticed last night that the house was cold. Nothing unlivable, just a cool 63 degrees. A few pairs of fleece jammies for the kids and extra blankets for us and we all went to sleep just fine. This morning – 53 degrees. I don’t know why, but 53 degrees in a house feels so much colder than 53 degrees outside.

We were frozen and couldn’t be in the house. No problem. Good mommy takes this as an opportunity for a special morning out! We go out for breakfast. The kids are starving by the time we get to the restaurant and I let L pick out a muffin from the display case. He comes back to the table followed by the waitress carrying a cheese danish. OK, so the kids can have a cheese danish. What a fun mommy I am! I feel like I’m winning the morning. We follow-up with some hot food and hot coffee (just for me) and we’re on our way.

Driving down the road where the speed limit is 40, so it’s safe to assume I was moving at 45, a bunch of bad things happened at once. First, I noticed that the cars behind me and in the oncoming lane started honking, and the drivers all slowed down and waved their arms around. At the very same time L started screaming. The car filled with a strange, loud whooshing sound. And it got cold. I glance in my rearview at crying, panic-stricken L and I see that his door is open. All the way open. Wide friggin’ open!

A note to Subaru manufacturers: you know that little white switch you’ve placed on the inside edge of the door, right at child-height, which turns the childproof locks on/off? Well, guess what? Children can play with it. And, apparently, they do. Maybe consider a different location?

A note to moms: when your kid does something that scares the living crap out of you, just let your natural emotions about it show. Doing so will scare the crap right back out of the kid, who will swear to you he will never ever ever do it again if you just calm down and promise you still love him.

Back home intact and in time for the heating guys to show up. 2 hours later the heat is back on and as I type this it is a balmy 57 degrees in here and rising. Soon I’ll take my coat off and be able to feel my fingers. In the meantime, this is what S has been wearing inside the house:

Despite how horribly unflattering this would be on me, I wish I had a fleece jumpsuit like this.

Under this all fleece number, she has on fleece pants, a long sleeve t-shirt, and a sweater.

Despite more temptation than usual, I have not started drinking.

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If you’re ever pulled over for speeding, and you really don’t want a ticket, you should try having L in your car with you. This has now happened to me several times. As the officer approaches, I roll down my window and simultaneously roll down L’s.

“Hello, Onsiffer!” L begins enthusiastically. I laugh as I hand over my license and registration. “L, let mommy and the police man talk.” This is absolutely encouragement for L to interrupt as much as possible.

“My name is L. I can spell it. This is S, he’s my sister, he’s sleeping.”

Within a minute or two the cop is entrenched in a completely absurd and disarming conversation. L can skillfully steer a conversation in unpredictable and sometimes bizarre directions: “Are you the oldest person in your house? What does your house look like? I like hamburgers. S is too little to eat them. He’s just a baby. I have a bed. It has robots on it…..” Eventually the cop will ask L if he thinks his mom is a “cool lady” or “careful driver” and L always vouches for me. (Thanks, little buddy!)

Generally my registration doesn’t even make it all the way back to the squad car. If it does, he sees my clean driving record and lets me off with a warning. I am so grateful that warnings do not show up on driving records!

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