Full disclosure…there’s NO recipe. I repeat, NO recipe. I didn’t do this canning of fig preserves. My husband did it, without a recipe. So…oh, fun. Also, does this picture remind anyone else of Monica on Friends after she broke up with Richard? Just me? OK.

Recently, I had a conversation with a neighbor friend.  She has a little girl the same age as our youngest.  The conversation started out simply enough, just talking about our children and discipline.  We started talking about how when our girls are in their teenage years and if they get into “legal” trouble, do we leave them in jail overnight or bail them out.  Leave. Them. There.  Oh, no.  How could you do that?  It’s your baby.  Yep.  It’s my baby.  My baby who has to learn the law of the land!  One night in jail would be better than what she would have in store for her at home.  Yep.  Think about that.  So, we progressed from there and she asked if there was a “baby jail” where we could just call and have our children picked up for a night.  Just because.  Then I said, forget that, I’ll just call 911 on my own (they already know me…..we’ll get into that later).  Here’s how that conversation would go:

911:  What’s your emergency?

Me:  Well, it’s not an actual emergency.

911:  What is it?

Me:  Can you come take me for the night?

911:  Is this a mom?

Me:  You know it.

911:  Are you drunk?

Me:  No, but if that helps, give me about an hour.  Also, I’ll have my face washed and my own pjs on, so no need to issue you the state “orange” suit.  I don’t look great in orange anyway. 

911:  OK.  Anything else?

Me:  Yes, could you send someone to watch my children for the night?  A state-issued sitter, if you will.  That’d be great.

911:  Absolutely.

Me: Awe, thank you so much!

I’ll post more of my 911 calls later. They’re, well, you’ll just have to read them.