Think, Heather, Think…

Sometimes, after looking back, I realize that the errors I make are often because I didn’t THINK before I did something.

Last night?

Totally one of those times.

I decided I wanted a fire.  We have some of those two hour logs left over and I happened to glance down and see them.  A combination of the sight, the chill that ran through me at that exact moment, and the realization that it would be two hours before my children arrived back from Winter Jam, set the wheels in motion.

What was different about last night is that I didn’t ask the boy to start a fire for me.  He was tucking the kids into bed, praying with them, and bidding them sweet dreams.  It’s not hard to light said fire, right?

I mean, come on.  It’s a two hour log.  You stick it in the fire place, light the corners and voila!  Instant fire in the fire place.  It’s not like I needed to go get wood from outside, gather kindling, bawl up newspaper, light it and then sit there and try to get it going… (and even that’s not hard, but the fact that it involved going outside means it becomes the boy’s territory.  Ok, fine.  I shall admit it.  I am lazy.)

So, that’s what I did.  I thought that the boy might be pleasantly surprised to emerge from the nighttime routine and return to the living room to play Wii with his sweetie with a roaring fire in the background.

Ok, so I was thinking a little… just not all the way through.

I lit the corners of the paper-wrapped log, the corners of my mouth turned up slightly as I imagined the look on his face when he returned.  I was quite tickled with myself, in all honesty.  It’s rare for me to think of these nice little things since I’m always in go-go-go mode.

I left the living room for a bit while I waited.  I needed to plug my iPod in and my phone, in a place where they would be away from me so that I didn’t get distracted by my friends on Twitter, the customers emailing me, etc.

Yes, I was determined that we were going to have two hours, a nice two hours, just me, the boy and the wii.  (It’s so rare that we get to play one another and have some friendly competition.)

A few minutes later, he came out of Thing 4′s room, his nose in the air, sniffing like a blood hound on the trail of a rabbit.

“Hun, do you smell something burning?” he asked.

I turned the corner from the kitchen, meeting him in the hallway and I smiled.  I knew his smile wasn’t far behind when he realized what I had cooked up.

“I lit a fire,” I responded.  I might have had a flirtatious look in my eye.

He most definitely had a look of panic and fear in his as he poked his head in the living room, one starting to fill with smoke.

“That’s great but you forgot to open the flue,” he said.  Not in an angry tone, a disappointed tone, or any other tone that indicated he might be mad at me.  Just a rush to the fireplace, mumbling the words, “this is going to be hot,” as he opened the damper and pulled his hand away as fast as he could.

“I’m sorry,” I stated.  He chuckled.

“Nothing to apologize for, Luv,”  he responded.  There was a smirk.

But for me, my plan had been thwarted all because I didn’t think everything through.

You see, I know better than to start a fire without opening the damper.  I’ve made fun of my mother MULTIPLE times because she’s done it.  And every single time?

My dad wasn’t home.

The first time, I was 6.  I had just gone to get in the shower and was half undressed (the bottom half ) when the smoke detector went off.  I was a smart kid.  I knew to get out of the house and leave nothing behind.

So out the door I went, pulling my shirt down over my peaches as best I could so as to not expose myself to the neighbors as we stood on the front lawn of the house. (Now, there’s a visual I’m sure you didn’t need.)

There was no damage.  I think a neighbor came and opened it and I returned to the house, and my shower.

Years later, it happened twice.  Only this time, we lived in a small town, the volunteer fire department just a mile down the road, and both my father and brother part of the squad.  Dad was out of town.  But the fire department was called, Mom was mortified, but having just baked banana bread and since they were already there, served the respondants coffee and fresh baked goodies.

I don’t think they minded making those calls to our house.  Mom took care of them.

Yes, I felt pretty stupid last night.

I also feel as if I need to call my mother today and apologize for all those times I’ve made fun of her forgetfulness.

Because I just got paid back.

That’ll teach me to open my mouth, right?

One would think… but clearly, I struggle with that action…

Until next time…