Life In Idaho

I normally don’t care for the little stereotypes and clichés about Idaho and potatoes. I went to Atlanta, and was asked if I had a potato in  my bag.  People, I’m begging you not to be as stupid as this person was. If you ever meet an Idahoian please-please-please do not ask us if we have a potato. The answer is almost always no.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love Idaho more than anyone out there, and being a native, I know what I’m talking about. This place is awesome.  And I love me a good baked potato, well I won’t lie, I love me a potato in any form. I just don’t carry one with me to other states. I barely ever carry one with me into another county.  I promise to never go to Phillidelphia and ask you if you have a cheese steak in your pocket. Pinky promise!

Now, I know after that little soapbox speech, this story is a little cliché-ish. Kinda funny too. I was driving my son to soccer last night and I was late. I was zoned out and focused on getting thru the hellish traffic that somehow only materializes when your late. Or at 5:00pm. I did vaguely notice two big trucks passing me going the other way. When the second one was passing I saw something in the road, and it was bouncing. At first I thought it was a rock, and as I held my breath and started to pray, it bounced again. Not rock bounce, but like bouncy ball bounce. It was really wierd. You always wonder how so many thoughts can go through your mind in such a short amout of time. I was wondering that very thing while thinking to myself that I was pretty sure that was no rock, but a potato.  And then it hit my car, and I said a dirty word in my head. As I said that dirty word in my head, I saw little bits of potato fly and spray around my car. My boys were instantly worried that we (I) had killed some poor dumb bird. When I said “No, not a bird, a potato.”, there was a moment of silence, and then the burst into a raging laughter, that only little boys can do. While I sat in the front giggling to myself thinking only in Idaho. Where is that stupid guy from Atlanta now!!!



So my baby started preschool today.  He hopped out of the car and started walking towards to stairs to the room and turned around.  I was quiet taken back to see the look in his eyes when he saw me and daddy following him.

Total suprise.

I think he thought I was going to just drop him off and go. Where, on God’s green Earth,  would he have gotten that idea, I don’t know. So together we walked up the stairs and into the classroom. He new exatly what to do. I was floored at his sudden independance! I’m guessing it has something to do with having a big brother. It has to!  So since I was so totally uneeded, I snapped a photo of him playing with his playdoh, and then realized my time was windling down. I would soon be obsolite.



Then Mr. Rubble and I went out to breakfast. Alone. For the first time in ages. There Mr. Rubble talked me off my windowsill, reassuring me that I was still needed afterall.  Then he joked, ‘It not by the kids, then by me.’ At first I gave him that look…. you know the one,  jeez, thanks for helping.  But then I realized it was a very sweet thing to say. His goofy, loving way of telling me we’ll make it thru the tough parenting trials of 2 boys, and come out on the other side still holding hands. He’s so sweet to me.

So I picked up Bam from preschool 2.5 hours later. He was still in one piece. He had made it through day one. He sat down and buckeled up, and said   “*Sigh* School was good Mommy. But it was to tiny. I need to go longer, like Brother.”

He’s to little, in that big boosterseat of his, to be thinking about growing up so fast.

I’m right, right?