Twenty-three Blue Magic Marker Pumpkins and 9-1-1

I used to work a late swing shift at a casino cafe when my children were little. I was a single parent back then, and I’d get home late, somewhere between one a.m. and four a.m., depending on when I got to close down the cafe for the night. This meant that if the kids got up early, I had to be up early as well, but sometimes sleep won over the necessity of being fully awake with two creative, overactive children running rampant in the house.

Ah the stories I could tell!

One time I awakened to find a clump of wavy brown hair in a pile by my pillow. That event woke me up more quickly than the strongest coffee! I sat up and I felt all over my head for some missing spots! It turned out that my son, the oldest of my two at age four, had cut his 3-year-old sister’s hair for her. Thankfully it wasn’t mine! A three-year-old does not mind such events, especially if she’s the center of attention.

Then there was the time that emergency services showed up at my door because of a call made from my home that someone at my home was dead. Turns out that my 4-year-old had seen an ad for home help, called the number, and told the lady that answered, “Can you help me? I think my mommy is dead,” because I didn’t wake up early that day. Long story short, I had taught my son his name, address, and phone number, all of which he gave this lady who called emergency services, and then he also called 9-1-1. When they came to my door, I looked over my shoulder at him and told them to stick around, someone just might need them.

There was the time they submerged my rotary phone (remember those?). After I fished it out of the aquarium, it gurgled week whenever it rang.

So about the magic markered pumpkins.

I woke one morning to the distinct smell of marker. Never a good thing when you KNOW you have not left such items where children can reach them! I heard the kids playing happily in their bedroom when I got up, so I strolled into the kitchen, calmly poured a cup of coffee, then meandered into their room. I was greeted with happy pumpkins, sad pumpkins, pumpkins with hats and hair, toothy ones, both large and small. IN BLUE! ALL OVER THEIR BEDROOM WALLS! They had even climbed up onto their bunkbeds to continue the artwork.

That’s when I knew I was going to have to move. I used something like eight coats of paint to cover the images. I used to have a photo of the walls after about four coats. Not sure where that got to; I’d love to show my grandbabies what their mother had helped with at age three!

Ah, water under the bridge, those times. Someday I might write about the shampoo butter (if I haven’t mentioned it already).

All I’ll say about this is that you should take a lot of photos, because 40-something years later, I can laugh about it and remember their happy laughter as they drew their pumpkins.