September 23, 2015

Remembering the First Ever Mother-Son Flashlight Party

I found this little ditty hiding in the archives. Look at this very sweet story.

* * *

Robb was traveling. Let's start there.

After dinner and playtime at Chick Fil A, showers (which are no longer baths and also new evidence God's goodness in my life), we settled in for the last part of the day:

Between the Lions, a bedtime show for all the children in our house who are ready for bed and for their Momma, who was ready to send them.

And then... Bzzzt. No electricity. None. Zip. Zilch. Awesome.

So, you know, this does not bode well for the bedtime routine.

I had one boy in terror, who immediately began pacing. (Insert: a certain firstborn.)

I had one boy in love with adventure, who immediately began listing the rules that were now null and void since the lights were out. (Insert a certain free spirit.)

I declared: The First Ever Mother/Son Book Party. Flashlights all around.

We read lots of them. LOTS of them. And still no electricity.

I called Robb in Wyoming, who called Excel Energy in Denver, begging on my behalf. "Please, help my wife. You can add the special favor to our October bill, if you must."

Apparently, we were one of 250 in the blackout zone. So, no special treatment, single mom or not.

Bedtime did not go well. The electricity came on and off. Flashlights were mildly helpful, in the sense of light source. Not so much in the sense of monstery shadow source.

Nix.

Tucker chewed his fists and fingernails, praying in earnest for God to deliver us all.

Tyler asked questions about Buzz Lightyear and Woody, and he explored every perameter of his bottom bunk by means of escape.

I sat in their bedroom, clicking away on my battery powered laptop. Because momma's gotta work, and deadlines don't wait for electricity.

And there's something soothing about a laptop keyboard. You have to admit.

We found a formula that worked:

1. Flashlights turned on, placed high on the shelf, lighting up the ceiling (but not moving or creating shadows).

2. Battery powered iPod, set to lullaby tunes.

3. Clicking of the keyboard.

4. Humming from the mommy.

Voila.

An hour later: Sleeping Boys.