Yesterday was a conference at church. There were a lot of really wonderful speakers, and I got to listen to the entire thing because I was in the choir and NOT sitting with my five wiggly children. I was not cocking one eyebrow or doing The Angry Whisper. No one nearby required a nose wipe, a referee, or a cheerio. And not once did I use the sign-language "No!" signal. If you don't know what it looks like, just pucker your face, stick out your jaw and pretend you are snatching a fly out of the air. It's pure magic, baby.
I even took conference notes. And if those notes were in front of me right now I might be able to remember what they talked about yesterday in greater detail. At the moment, all I remember is one moment of counsel, and sadly I don't even know who said it. But I remember what he said:
"I hope that tomorrow for Family Night you will work on your 72 hour kits".
I swear there were some other really touching, moving, motivating, inspiring, and amazing things said. I even cried once. Yet, even without "the five distractions", 72 hour kits are all I remember.
So, tonight we tried. The functional word being tried.
We broke out the old kit.
We discovered that:
Adam no longer wears 2T Dalmatian undies
Military MRE's from 1997 taste nasty (Hey, now, they expired in 02. That's THIS century!)
Vaseline, diaper cream, lotion and pretty much anything in a container will leak
We now know where the mess kit is, one week late
Small pull-top cans of fruit can explode in the heat
If you leave the burst cans long enough, the contents biodegrade into black liquid
Tampons look like a stick of dynamite to a 14 year old
By the end of the night, we had accomplished very little,
but it was all good for a few laughs.
My favorite quote of the night came from Tessa:
Ellie: "Tessa, don't color in that coloring book.
That's for an emergency some day for if we get bored."
Tessa: "Well, good, cause I'm bored right now."
May we never need to use our 72 hour kit.
Or at least not until we have replaced the canned fruit.