Powerless

There was a car accident at the intersection of Rodney Parham and Shackleford sometime before 3:30 this morning I don’t know any of the details of the accident or even if the people involved came out okay. All I do know is that whatever happened knocked out the stoplight and all power for at least three blocks, including our townhome and the kids’ school. I called the hotline for the power company at about 7 a.m. to hear the recorded message that they hoped to have power restored by 4 p.m. Great. You know this is yet another shining example of God, in His infinite wisdom, sure knowing what he was doing — planting me down on this earth in “modern times.” I don’t think I would have survived before the invention of electricity; of course, anyone who’s ever been camping with me already knew that.

Perhaps the worst part of a day without power is that I couldn’t even take a shower, and not just because the water heater’s electric. See, it’s difficult enough to shower when I’m home alone with Wonder Boy — he’s at that age where he’s into everything, climbing the walls and showing no fear — so add to that the fact that I wouldn’t be able to see what he’s getting into in the dim flashlight lit bathroom … no thanks, I’ll just smell. Of course, waiting meant waiting until after dinner or later since we had plans to trek the land at a house we like when Bryan’s done with work tonight. So we didn’t get power back until about 4, headed straight out to meet Bryan and then drive to Benton … and I didn’t get a shower until 10. Ain’t life grand?

Oh, and Wonder Boy can now climb out of his crib. Also great. He’s been able to scale the inside of a pack-n-play for a few weeks now, but today was the first for the little spider-monkey to escape his crib. I’ll admit that he’s really quite strong and resourceful, once I look past the part that’s just damn aggravating. He stretches one leg up, hooks his toes and pulls himself up onto the attached changing table, then shimmies down the other side, using the shelves like ladder rungs. I no longer have the power to confine him, even for a moment. Well, that’s just plain awesome.

Perhaps it just goes to show me that I shouldn’t even try. Just last night when we were at Wal-Mart (yep, buying the week’s+ worth of groceries that sat rotting in our powerless refrigerator for more about 12 hours today), we bought one of those toddler backpack leashes — you know, it looks like a monkey that the little one wears like a backpack while mom or dad holds the extra long tail leash. We were joking how when we only had The Girl, we would poke fun at others for using such a contraption, but last weekend when I saw a fellow soccer mom corralling her third with one, I was sold. Now, if there were just some sort of harness to keep him in his bed … just kidding … well, mostly.

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