Alright, I'm ready to talk about my traumatic experience from last Monday. But between this and Lance's broken arm, I hope nobody reports me to the authorities.

This past Monday I left for the gym at about 8:30 a.m. All of the kids were still asleep, as is usually the case. They all roll out of bed at 9 or 10 and the big kids help the little kids with breakfast and stuff. So I went and did my workout, then on my way home I called to check on things. I asked Trevor what the twins were doing. He said, "Didn't you take them with you?" I got just a teeny bit nervous, but was positive they were just off playing quietly somewhere, so I told Trevor to go find them. He couldn't find them anywhere. After a few minutes I was starting to get a bit more concerned. I felt foolish doing it, but out of desperation I called Jeremy to see if there was any way he had taken them somewhere when he had left for work. He hadn't, and he started to get concerned, too. He called our neighbor and asked him to search our house. Our neighbor couldn't find them. About this point Jeremy headed for the train to come home. I pulled in and ran through the house and yard, but they were nowhere. So I got to call the police. I was doing the thing where I couldn't speak properly and the lady had to keep yelling at me to keep calm so she could understand what I was saying. I was transferred to another lady for a minute, and then she said she was transferring me and suddenly I hear, "911 emergency." Oh, how I hate being on the phone with 911. That was the second time in my life I had to speak to them, and it's every bit as bad as your nightmares. All the women I spoke with were very attentive and concerned, but I was just a basket case. There was just no explanation for where they could be and I was positive I'd never see them again. So I had been on the phone with 911 for a couple of minutes, while she talked to me and the police. Then I heard her start talking about two kids being spotted on big wheels. For a minute my heart sank. We don't have any big wheels, we have trikes. But then she started describing them, and at the same moment my neighbor, whose wife had been out searching in her car, came over and said his wife had just called and they had found them. Those two stinkin' three-year-olds had gone about two blocks up the street, crossed a busy road that is posted at 35mph, and had proceeded onto the closest busy stop-light intersection, where the speed limit is 45mph. They had been found standing on that corner by two women, whom I never got to meet because they had gone by the time I got there. Shortly after they got to them the police got there, and then my neighbor. I'm sure I don't need to say it, but that was the worst thing I've ever gone through in my life. I know I am so blessed and lucky that they were found okay. They were pretty shaken up to have the police hanging out with them while they waited for me to get there, but they know my neighbor, and Trevor was with her, so I think that made them feel a little better. Of course, just like in the ER, I got a stern lecture from the officer (as stern as an officer is going to be toward a mom who just found her missing children).

Children, I have had enough excitement this summer. Can you please just take it easy on me for awhile?