Why did it have to be my Favorite pair?

So I'm buzzing around, keeping everyone on task, feeling so efficient. I have boy 1 washing the walls, boy three is picking up toys in the yard, boys 4 and 5 are playing happily in the tub. I'm on the computer setting up a math program for boy 2. All of a sudden an alarm sounds "Poop, Poop! It's GREEN!" I heave a sigh, knowing the next ten minutes are going to be very unpleasant. I linger for a moment or two, not in a hurry to face what I know awaits me. I drag my feet on the way to the bathroom, thinking I have some fishing to do of the not-fun kind. Instead, I pass a naked runner, in whose chubby cheeks the evidence is still wedged. I follow the gleeful sounds of his grossed out brothers to my bedroom- that's right MY BEDROOM! Among poopy footprints all over my floor, I find a load on my favorite shoes. The ones I've worn almost every day for years. I promptly put the offending shoe in the dumpster. The best part of this story is what happens next. Boy #2 comes and puts his arms around me, and tells me he knows how I feel. He remembers how it was when a little brother peed in his bed. He retrieves the favorite shoe, santitizes it with gloved hands, and returns to me with the question "Is there a lady in the house?" Can I get any luckier?

Fishing Nirvana

I love to fish, I just don't have much success. My husband had a few days of vacation last week, and I prevailed on him to take us camping and fishing. The camping was a nightmare! Our littlest was running around screaming, diving head-first into people's tents. The other boys were buzzing around, high on fresh air. We hardly slept a wink, but the fishing the next morning made up for everything. We found this fabulous pool between some rapids. It was quite a hike to get there, in prime rattlesnake country. We had to follow a skinny, slidey trail cut in the side of a basalt cliff. When we got down to the river, there was no level ground, just boulders and chasms. When we finally got our family down there, my husband and I just looked at each other, exchanging a "how are we going to get everyone out of here alive?" look. We had the baby tethered with twine, and tried to keep everyone from falling to their deaths. The fish started biting right away, and each of us got to reel one in. I was so shocked when I felt the tug on my line, I started shrieking! It was just a little Sqawfish, but I was over the moon. We were reeling fish in hand over fist, so when I caught my next one, dear husband was occupied. I actually grasped the fish in my hand, got the hook out of it's lip, stuck the metal pointy thing in it's gill and out it's mouth, and secured the line to a log in the water. It was quite a triumph, but I confess, I could feel the cold slipperiness of the fish on my hand for a long time afterward.