Photographic

A certain young man has taken up a new hobby...I'm hopeful he'll let me post some of his photos at some point.

Mindful

Have you ever noticed how much your attention is splintered into bits over the course of a day? I sometimes feel like I'm under attack by raging hordes of Orcs masquerading as cell phones and barking dogs and "Hey, Moms!" It's become so common, that when things are quiet and still, I'm restless and anxious because the barrage has ceased and it feels completely foreign to me. In those moments, I find myself turning on the television - not to actually watch the television, but so that I have the comfort of white noise in the background. It feels like home.

The unfortunate thing is that when your mind is constantly fractured by all those little interruptions and sounds, it can't focus and regroup and heal from a day's worth of trivialities and stresses. The brain, I've learned, doesn't know the difference between common stressors and attacking goblins - it reacts in the same way regardless of the level of threat. That's why sometimes I hear Joshua humming the same four bars of "Don't Stop Believing" over and over and over again, and it makes me want to drop-kick a puppy.

I would never actually act on that impulse. I love puppies.

So, we've been working on focus and quieting the mind lately, here in Casa de Ott. We've been practicing mindful attention - focusing on one thing at a time and letting go of those things we can't control any longer. You double faulted that last point? Okay. It's over. Let it go - focus on this point. Someone is speaking to you? Your entire focus should be on them.

The house is quiet? Let it be quiet.

It seems so easy, and yet it is one of the most difficult things for me to do really well. Too often, I find myself worrying over mistakes that I can't change, or looking ahead to potential stresses that haven't even happened yet, and the present simply passes me by without my noticing. How much more relaxed and stress-free would I be if I could simply master the joy of living every moment as it happened.

And so.
I'm trying.
I'm breathing.
I'm focusing.
I'm putting my phone down and forgetting where I put it for a little while.
I'm listening.
I'm watching.
I'm just being.

I'm just being.

Sunday Scribblings

Have a favorite quote you want to see on a chalkboard? Send me a message, and I'll scribble it up!

Get Your Read On

I love to read. LOVE to read. I spent all day yesterday finishing up a series of six books about alchemy and magic, and now I'm a little depressed. The series is over, the story is done. I loved the ending, but I hated that it ended.

For me, reading is a journey - an escape. To lose myself in a book is to find myself. When I don't take the time to read, I find myself becoming a little lost - a little hopeless - a little cranky. This just means it's time to hit up Goodreads for some more suggestions, and spend some time in the library perusing the shelves. It's a super-rainy day today, so I'm guessing I'll be heading to the library in just a bit.

I don't understand people who don't like reading. Honestly. I've tried. Yes, I get that sometimes it's difficult. I can see where you can get bogged down in a book and really start disliking it for a little while. I understand that sitting and watching a movie is much easier.

But there's no movie crew that has ever topped my imagination. Some have come close - Peter Jackson has worked near miracles on J.R.R. Tolkien, but it still isn't the same. I have a hard time even going to see movies made from books that I loved. I've still not seen The Help.  I think I bought it, but I've just not been able to make myself watch it, because I'm afraid of what it will do to my memory of the book.

So here's the irony. My kids don't like to read. Really. I've introduced them to every series, style, concept and author I can think of. I've read to them. Constantly. They love for me to read TO them. They say, "More! Don't stop now!" So, I'll hand them the book and tell them to finish reading it and they say, "Meh." Maybe later.

Joshua loves Calvin and Hobbes and has read all of them, so that's at least something.

But for them, reading is a chore. A necessity to get through literature class. A dreaded task.

And it breaks my heart. It shatters my soul. Nothing makes me feel like more of a failure as a mother than the fact that my children don't love to read.

I still hope. I still introduce new books to them regularly. I still read with joy in front of them, laughing and crying openly at what I'm discovering. Maybe one day they'll get the spark that leaps up from between the page covers and turns them on.

If not...I'll just blame it on Dr. SmartyPants.

The End.

Over... Everything.

I was talking with a dear friend last night who is going through some major changes in her life. She's starting a new career, her husband is starting his own business. Her kids are going through some things. She's juggling 900 things and she let a couple of them fall (shocker!) and she said to me, "I'm just overwhelmed. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be, but I am."

And the moment she said it, I thought about how often over the past couple of weeks I've said, or thought the same thing. My husband is living in DC, my boys have just started a new virtual academy and right now my work load with that is HUGE and I have to do everything - EVERYTHING - by myself right now. And I'm overwhelmed.

Now. Why the hell should we be sorry about it? It's truth. We are overwhelmed. Our lives are full to overflowing with craziness and greatness and nonsense and dammit, we're overwhelmed.

So here's what I told her...

You are overwhelmed. Of course you are - anyone would be. There's nothing wrong or bad about it. In no way does it make you some kind of failure. It doesn't define you as a person, it's simply what is.

People - how often do we beat ourselves up for being where we are? I do it all the time, and I'm sick of it. I don't know why we feel the need to do it, and I really don't care. I just want to stop.

I just want to be.

Life is not perfect. Life is not always calm and serene and smooth sailing and well-decorated. Sometimes, life is just a god-awful mess and we are along for the ride. I'm not talking about the times when you are making choices that cause chaos. I'm talking about times when, completely outside of your control, everything around you threatens to rise up and suffocate you. How do you handle it?

Honestly - I don't have any answers. I'm not a therapist. But here's what I suggested, and here's what we are both going to try.

Find 30 minutes. If that's too much, make it 15, 20, whatever. Go somewhere if you can. If you can't go somewhere, find a place with a lock and threaten anyone who comes near you during that time. Get a cup of coffee if that soothes you; a milkshake if that works better. It doesn't matter. It just needs to be quiet and calm and away.

Away.

Cell phones off. iPad powered down. TV off. Disconnected from every thing and person and beep and vibration. The world will not end if you check out for 30 minutes. As a matter of fact, someone may realize they can solve a problem if they can't find you to solve it for them.

Sit. Listen. Be quiet. This is not prayer time, study time, list-planning time. This is quiet, peaceful relaxation. This is getting your head above water and floating on your back while you stare up at the blue, blue sky time.

This is breathing time. Be still.

When you come back, the circumstances will not have changed a bit.  In my case, Dr. SmartyPants will still be in DC. My boys will still be trying to wrap their minds around virtual school and my dogs will still be chewing up my furniture. More than likely, the laundry will not have done itself.

But you can face it. You'll still be overwhelmed by circumstances, but maybe your mind will be able to process them differently. Your list will not have decreased by one thing, but maybe your stress levels will have.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Unconventional

Today is my 14th anniversary.

Dr. SmartyPants and I have never had what some would call a conventional relationship. It started unconventionally, it's continued unconventionally to this day.

We met on September 24, 1998, at a drinking eating establishment popular for their pitchers of beer burritos amongst the scholars of The University of Alabama. I was there with a group of likely all-male geology graduate students. He was there with a couple of engineering friends.

A week later, we had our first date, which ended in an awkward kiss and a promise of seeing more of each other. Very few days have passed since then that I've not seen him. If you're doing the math, we got married a few short months later. Three and a half months isn't exactly a conventional courtship-engagement period, apparently.

Our engagement was a bit odd, too. We were actually going over the budget so we could see if we could afford to move in together, and we were all, dude - why don't we just get married?

Crazy. I know.

We got married at the beach - Destin, Florida, to be exact. We had about 25 people there - close friends and family only. The caterer was a notary public, so she performed the ceremony for us. We didn't have any bridesmaids or groomsmen. When we got started, I asked one of my friends to stand with me and be a witness, and he asked one of his. They didn't know they were going to be asked. After the vows, we all ate brunch together and laughed and had a wonderful time. It was kind of a strange wedding, I think. We loved it. But it wasn't exactly conventional.

Our first year together, we got pregnant, started a new job, moved to a new city, and had a baby. So, out of the top five stressors in people's lives, we accomplished three. Within another half a year, we'd bought a house, so that made four. Somehow, we made it work. Somehow we stayed the course.

Another baby, three more houses, unless you count the one we rented in Arlington for two years, but we didn't actually buy that one - I guess we should just count it as two moves.

Homeschooling. Well - that just gets its own subcategory. Because who the heck would do that? And now, we've added competitive tennis training to the mix. Sure - we could have done soccer, baseball, basketball or football, but why be normal?

This year may take the cake as far as unconventional goes, though. He's off working in DC again. The boys and I decided to stay here. He'll come home every other weekend or so. We'll go up and spend a week here and there. It will be, well, unconventional.

And Skype-y. Very, very Skype-y.

But, we'll make it work. How do I know? Because I just do. Because he's the first person I think about when I wake up in the morning, and the last person I think about when I go to bed at night. Because I'm as madly in love with him - no...MORE madly in love with him - as I was when we sat in DePalma's Restaurant in Tuscaloosa and planned out the number of children we would have.

And so we won't be together on this anniversary, no. I've had friends question how we can handle such a stress. And I'll tell you how...

Because this is only one anniversary.

And I plan to have at least 75. Depending on medical technology, I might even push that to 100. Because living to 130 years old seems totally doable, as long as he's in it.

Happy Anniversary, my one true love. Thanks for being so weird with me these last 14 years...

Roar.

It's Monday. How about a list of awesome things? 13, you say? Okey dokey. 13 it is.

1. I woke up 5 minutes before my alarm today.
2. The boys woke up with their own alarms, meaning I didn't have to yell up the stairs at them.
3. Derek was studying interjections today. Every time he read the word, "Interjection," I felt compelled to sing the song from Schoolhouse Rock. "IN-TER-JEC-TION, shows EXCITEMENT or EMOTION. HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH! HA-LAYYYYY-LUUUUUU-JAAAAAHHHH - YEA!!!"
4. I refrained from doing it out loud.
5. You just totally sang that song in your head.
6. Our third day of virtual school has not killed any of us. Yet.
7. Joshua is taking earth science, so there's a world tectonic map hanging on the wall of the office.
8. I made this last night. Delicious. I used spaghetti squash instead of rice. Super good.
9. Skype. It's what is going to make this year work.
10. It's 234 days until my birthday.
11. My pantry is organized, my closet is organized, my office is organized.
12. I re-caulked my kitchen countertops today. I'm a caulking prodigy. Except that I'm 44 years old, which likely negates the prodigy part. I'm a caulking genius.
13. My library is holding numerous books for me to pick up today. Like, right now. I love my library.

And that is all. Actually, there's a whole lot more awesome out there, but I have to go to the library, so it will have to wait!

Once Upon a Bad Disposition

I once knew a girl.

She drew. She painted. She wrote. She played a guitar.

She crafted and sang and drove a fast car
to the mountains and back just for fun.

To the beach and back just for sun.

This girl was the author of her own destiny.
She listened to few and followed whims as if they were
winding country roads begging to be explored.

She read five books at once and loved them all so much
she slept with them in her bed like secret lovers
tucked under her arms and legs. Like lovers,
some were fiction, some history, some self-help and discovery.
Some were empty and she poured herself into them and got back nothing
but a case of writer's cramp and a bad disposition.

Some were just about
cars.

Then one morning, she woke up and realized she'd spent
then entire previous day without one creative thought outside of how to
turn half a chicken breast and an old bag of salad into a
meal for four.

And even that wasn't terribly creative.

She wondered when it had happened - the leaking away of her spirit - the slow, steady drain of such a full cask of creativity.

She thought about blaming others for it. They sucked it out of me, she thought. They drained me on a daily basis. They...they...they...

That's when it occurred to her. They hadn't done anything. As a matter of fact,
those around her had done
nothing but pour
themselves
into
her
and had
gotten back nothing
but a case of writer's cramp and a bad disposition.

It wasn't their fault. It was her own.

Her creativity wasn't drained at all - only siphoned away and hidden deep beneath the floorboards of her overly anxious and
misdirected heart.

Why - there it is, right there. Full as ever
and just as ridiculous.

Waiting.

Waiting for that girl to come and pick it up and dust it off. To tap it
once again and let it flood out all over in
great sticky clumps of sparkle
and goo.

Tap.
Tap.
Tap.

Too...sday

It's Tuesday, that sadly neglected, easy to forget, non-important day of the week. It's the day that doesn't make the songs, doesn't merit the Facebook gripes or someecard taunts. What to do with Tuesday?

How 'bout a list?

But a list of what? What's worthy of a Tuesday list?

Hmm. Well. Uhhhhm.

How about a list of other sadly neglected and overlooked things in my life?

1. My bell pepper plant. I planted it too closely to the zucchini, which has grown into a gargantuan, mutant plant and has overtaken my little raised garden to the exclusion of almost everything else. The tomatoes and squash and cucumber are holding their own, but the bell pepper is lost amongst the giant zucchini leaves. Zucchini is a Monday, for sure.
2. This blog. Crimeny. I posted once in January, once in May and now twice in June. Sad. Sad, neglected little space. Dr. SmartyPants texted me yesterday and told me that he missed reading my blog. "It warms my heart," he said. (I am not neglected and overlooked by my sweetheart.) 
3. Housekeeping. Good lord - who can blame me. But it's grossing me out. Just the sheer volume of canine hair alone is disgusting. Send help. And a dumpster.
4. The backsplash tiling project in my kitchen. I started with a bang and it's currently at sizzle levels. I look at it often. I sigh. I turn my back and go do something else. I put up one 12x12 section of pretty glass and onyx tiles. I repeat that a week later. I should be done by Thanksgiving.
5. Artistic endeavors, although I did pick up my guitar and play a little last night. My fingers remember what to do, but they've grown soft and I couldn't play very long. I took a few photos, but then remembered that I hadn't processed them. My sketchbook is very dusty and probably misplaced.
6. My friends. Cyndi and I keep talking about having a girls night out, but we haven't managed to actually schedule one. Linda and I saw each other for about 30 minutes so I could borrow her 100mm camera lens, which I still have. Girls - it's time.
7. Exercise. My foot surgery in March has derailed anything like healthy activity, but I'm over it. Dr. SmartyPants and I played tennis on Saturday, and it hurt and felt great at the same time, so I'm hopeful that this is one area that is going to get un-neglectified. I can too totally use that word, as I just made it up, thank you very much.
8. My children. HA. Just kidding. Mostly. Kind of. Wait - where are they?
9. Reading other people's blogs. Not sure what happened, but I've let my whole bloglist get backlogged. I love reading your blogs. I've missed you all. I'm coming back...
10. Laundry. There's just no excuse for this one. I'm just too lazy to deal with it.

I think that's enough. Now, I'm getting depressed about my lack of order and serenity. But wait! Tomorrow is Wednesday! Hump Day! Top o'the week - downhill to the weekend!

Poor little Tuesday...

GSM, People.

We're taking Dr. SmartyPants camping for Fathers Day this weekend in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. We haven't been in almost a year, which is completely nuts. We used to go once or twice a month, but the boys' tennis schedules have interfered, as has life in general and all that goes with it.

But this weekend it all slows down. We'll be waking up early to watch the mists rise off the mountains and staying up late to see the last of the synchronous fireflies blink (lightning bugs!!). In between, we'll saunter and stroll, nap and read, photograph and sketch, ride bikes and hike and just generally enjoy being together.

No television. No internet. No iPhones.

The days fly by so quickly now - my boys are growing into young men faster than I'd ever imagined they could. I look for my babies and see tall, lanky pre-teenagers in their places. I listen for their sweet voices and hear their deepening husky tones instead. I expect a hug where I tuck their head into my chest and it ends up under my chin and I wonder how it got there.

I can remember my mother and mother-in-law telling me, when the boys were babies, to hang on to those precious moments as long as I could - that they grow up so quickly you won't believe it. I knew then that they were right, but I couldn't really imagine it - that the space between sweet babe sleeping in my arms and sweaty 5'2" tennis player draped over the sofa could be so microscopic in size.

Blink. I have a baby.

Blink. He's starting kindergarten.

Blink. He'll be starting middle school this year.

Blink...

So. This weekend away is meant to be a breath between the blinks. A pushing of the pause button of life just to let us catch up a little. Even the pause will be less than a blink in the grand scheme of things, but it'll be worth it.

Sometimes those little pauses are the memories you hold forever.

I Think a Change is in Order

It's time for a road trip!

I've been operating this blog as "Art by Diahn" for a long time now, even though 95% of the content here has not been about art. Over the next few days, I'm going to be changing everything over to an address that makes more sense to me: http://diahnott.blogspot.com.

That way, all the photos and paintings and ramblings I've been doing at artbydiahn will just be part of my life stream, instead of relegated to a niche into which they didn't always fit. Everything here will travel over to the new URL - don't worry. I'll even explain where I've been for the past 5 months and why I haven't been posting.

I hope you'll all come with me. I've missed our talks and your encouragement and insights.

Until next week... (that's http://diahnott.blogspot.com )

(you should make a note of that)

(really. do it now. don't forget.)

And so it begins...

Linda and I finally had our January 1st meeting. It was only six days late. We have GOALS! And LISTS! And PRIORITIES!

Because we're awesome like that.

I'll fill in more later, but suffice it to say that 2012 is going to be jam-packed with lots of wonderfulness...

December is Drifting Away

It's not that I've intended to disappear. It's just that life has a way of sweeping you along in paths you may not have expected, initially. I'm going to take a little holiday for the rest of December - I promise I'll be back in January with tons of exciting news and goings on, some new adventures and a ridiculous number of photographs. I hope the holiday season finds you well and happy, and that your New Year wishes all come true. Until 2012...

Peace.

Happy Thanksgiving, Y'all

I hope your day is filled with joy, love, friends, family, abundant thanks and turkey.I know mine will be...

Seasons of Change

I have a boy. I have two, actually, but there's this one...he's the one we're going to talk about today. It doesn't matter which one he is - if you know us well at all, you'll figure out which one he is. This one...

...is a trailblazer, in his quiet, understated, passive-aggressive way.

He listens to math lectures, and then tries to find another way to do his problems. That would be great, except that his way tends to take twice as long and result in half the accuracy. And then he has to go back and do it the boring correct way and gets all the answers right in half the time and will still try his way tomorrow.

He learns all the correct foundational strokes in his tennis class and then watches a professional player do it differently, and without asking for any input from the professional tennis teachers that we pay rather handsomely, completely changes how he does those foundational strokes. That would be great, except that then he has to start all over, learning how to do it correctly the new way, and that results in much frustration and despair because he can't quite get the serve in like he used to, but by golly he looks cool.

Don't get me wrong - I'm glad he wants to blaze trails...I am all for the big ideas and the bold moves. But here's the thing...in order to blaze new trails, it's helpful to have traveled a little longer. It's a good idea to become completely familiar with the known maps of the area - with the survival techniques you need in order to make it through the process. I KNOW he wants to be his own man and do things his way, and I don't want to squash that in him, but it's just not time yet, little man.

I promise, son, you'll know when it's time, and when it is...I promise to buy you a brand new machete for hacking your way through the underbrush. Until then, though, save up your energy and just cruise along on the path others have paved for you-I'm exhausted with pulling you out of the briars.

Azalea in Waiting

This was taken at the top of Andrew's Bald, in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. I'd love to go back in the spring, when the azaleas are blooming - it must be an amazing sight!

This is a test...

Just testing out my new toy...


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Thank You...

...to all those who have given so much to keep our country free.

They Bearly Made It

So, when we last left our intrepid family, they had narrowly escaped a black bear's attention while it munched on red berries in a tree right next to the trail on which they were hiking. Even so, they decided it would be wise to continue to hike single file, with the kids in between the parents, just in case they ran across another wild animal. They passed a couple of groups of hikers and warned them of the bear in the tree, feeling confident they would make it back to the car in good shape.

About a half mile past where they spotted the bear in the tree, the mom heard a loud, crunching, movement-type sound on the uphill side of the trail. She stopped abruptly, told everyone to be quiet and looked toward the sound. They all heard the sound that time, and through the gaps in the trees, where the sunlight filtered to the ground, she saw the shape of a head and a very large, fuzzy ear.

Her husband eased up to her and asked if she thought it was a deer. She pointed at the very large, fuzzy ear about 20 yards away and said, "No. Definitely not a deer. That there's a big ole bear. Big. Like, BIG." The head turned toward the family, as if determining whether or not they were worth pursuing. The husband pushed everyone behind him (because that's just the kind of guy he is) and they watched, not breathing, tensed and ready to use every ounce of their junior ranger training to prevent an attack.

The bear turned uphill and slowly began to walk in the opposite direction the family was hiking. The husband herded his family up the trail, distancing them from the bear, watching behind to see if she turned. The wife had her hands on her boys' shoulders, urging them to walk quickly, but not run - reassuring them that they were fine.

And they were. The last half mile of the hike was uneventful, although the adrenaline made it feel somehow dangerous. The children were understandably frightened, but not panicked, and by the time they reached the car, everyone was laughing (albeit nervously) about their brush with wildlife.

After a short rest and refuel at the car, they all decided to head up another (well traveled and heavily populated) trail to see the rest of the views they had come to see.




They also got a story to tell their children...

Bear With Me.

Once upon a time, a nice wonderful delightful family of four decided to spend their Saturday hiking in the Smoky Mountains instead of participating in any tennis tournaments. They were so glad when they woke up and saw that the day was going to be spectacularly good - clear and cool - just perfect for some hiking.

They packed some snacks and a picnic blanket in backpacks, loaded up the car and drove for about two hours, through foggy valleys, until they reached their destination. They could have gone somewhere closer, but on particularly clear days, the best view to be had are at Clingman's Dome, on the Appalachian Trail - the highest point in Tennessee and in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

When they arrived, they marveled at the view from the parking lot, and that they had gotten there early enough to avoid the ample crowds that would arrive after lunch. They set out for Andrew's Bald, a two mile trek through the forest. The trail was damp and muddy in places, but that didn't matter, because the temperature was perfect, the birds were singing and the cutest little red squirrels on the entire planet were chasing each other all over the place, chattering and calling to each other across the trail.

The family noticed a sign at the trail head that noted that campsite #68 was closed due to aggressive bear activity, but there was no notice about the bald, or the Forney Ridge Trail, so they pressed on. The mom led the way, the two boys next, and the father brought up the rear - an arrangement that allowed for the maximum protection of the youngsters...just in case...

(this is what you might call foreshadowing, folks...)

Along the trail, they noticed signs of bear activity - red berries scattered here and there - what looked like bear poop - and in one particular location, a smelly, musty, wild animal smell - but they didn't see any actual bears. I will tell you that the mom was paranoid as hell, mainly because the trail was so empty - they only passed one other set of hikers on the way to the bald - and her eyes were moving back and forth like a Cylon's. Sheesh.

At the bald, they set up their picnic blanket and had snacks of nuts and beef jerky and apples, drank some water, and soaked in the views. They wandered around the bald, looking at the azalea buds that will open next spring, and the moss covered brush. They climbed a few rocks and took some photos and lay in the grass and soaked up the sun. Other hikers came and went. Finally, they decided to head back up to the tower on the dome.

On the way back, they ran into many more hikers, and so the mom was feeling much more secure. There was a large group of German hikers, who politely asked if they were on the right trail for the bald, a group of about 4 older ladies who were having a fabulous time. Everyone was friendly and engaging. About a mile into the return trip, the family stopped to allow a couple, traveling the opposite direction, to pass on the narrow trail. They stepped off the path and drank some water, gearing up for the uphill section of the hike. After a few minutes, they noticed that the other couple wasn't coming down the hill, so they stepped back onto the path.

"There's a bear, " called the man. "How close?" asked the mom. The man pointed to a spot about 20 yards in front of us, just to the left of the trail. There, at the base of the tree, sat a small black bear - not much bigger than the family's German Shepherd dog, who was suddenly much missed by the mom. The family stopped, children pushed behind them and waited to see what the little bear would do.

It climbed the tree with the red berries. Up and up and up it went to the top, feasting all the way. None of the humans on the trail moved. "Should we wait?" the man uphill asked. "Probably. He went up that tree pretty fast. I'm sure he can come down it even faster," the father replied. So they waited. And waited - the family on the downhill side, the couple on the uphill side. Another couple walked up behind the family. They were young - mid 20s at best. They waited, too. A group of about 7 arrived with the couple on the uphill side. They were louder - more boisterous. The young couple on the downhill side decided to try going past the bear in the tree.

Everyone held their breath and watched as they passed under the limb where the bear was perched. The bear watched, too. But he didn't move. The large uphill group decided to go all at once, and the family knew that's when they'd have to make their move. They passed under the tree just as the larger group passed them. The mom looked up and saw the bear looking down at them. Her heart beat faster than it ever had, her eyes darting between the bear and the trail and her children and her husband. On the other side of the tree, with the children uphill from her, she turned and looked back. The bear had gone back to stuffing itself with red berries, unconcerned with the parade that had passed below him.

"Well, that was exciting!" said the mom, trying to keep her children from panicking. "My heart is beating out of my chest!" the older son replied. "Mine, too. I guess that was our adventure for the day," she said.

Or maybe not...