Call 911!!!

Ah Spring. It's finally arrived in all of it's glory. The weekend was beautiful and it was so wonderful to be outside again and not trudging through 3 feet of snow.

The kids and I decided to take advantage of the warm spring day on Saturday and do some yard clean-up. We raked, picked up sticks, cleared out weeds and did some burning. Around lunch time, Zoe and I headed in to get some food. I told Max that he could burn the hillside area but that he needed to have the hose near him and he needed to stay ahead of the fire.

Twenty minutes later, Max came running up to the front door - covered in black soot from head to toe - and screamed through the screen door "CALL 911!!!"

I jumped up and went running outside, following Max. As I rounded the corner near the garage I saw the flames taking off across the dry and brittle field. I also fell flat on my ass when I hit a patch of mud. So I hit the mud, fell and swore. Loudly. I scrambled up and ran to the front edge of the fire to assess the situation.

Max was beyond help. He kept screaming that we needed to call 911 and I kept screaming back "You have to PAY $3000 when you set fire to something and the fire department has to come put it out. I am NOT paying $3000 for this"

I grabbed a shovel and positioned myself in front of the fire. I was throwing dirt on it and stomping it out wherever I could but it was not slowing down. I was yelling at the kids to get water but apparently I wasn't concise enough in my instructions. Max was running around trying to fill up a garbage can with water from a broken and leaking hose. A few minutes later, I looked up to see Zoe tip-toeing across the lawn with a soup bowl full of water in her hands. Walking very slowly so as not to spill it. She walked up to a patch of burning grass and tipped the bowl. Missed it completely.

This is when my swearing began in earnest. My lungs were burning, my face was on fire and I was losing the battle. I screamed at the kids to get as many hoses as they could find and hook them all together. I kept worrying that one of the neighbors would call it in so I was trying to look casual about it all while completely panicking on the inside.

Finally, I saw the kids getting the hoses hooked together and it looked like we'd have just enough to reach the front edge of the fire. Max was dragging the hose to the front and I was racing back to help him. I was trying to untangle a knot in it when he gave it a really hard tug. With my hand right in the middle of it. The pain was instant as was the swearing. Max looked back and started to come back to me but I waved him off and instructed him to fight the fire. Meanwhile I grabbed my hand, watching it swell and bruise and started cursing a blue streak. Truth be told, I might have sunk to the ground in a very dramatic fashion as well....

Once it was all under control, Max approached me. We were both covered in soot and reeked of smoke. His eyes were still pretty wide but he had calmed down a bit. I said to him, "Max, this is one of the worst ones yet." Implying that, of all the crazy crap he's done, this one is now topping the list. "I know Mom, I know" he said, lowering his head and looking ashamed. "This WAS really bad". I told him that, as punishment, he was going to stay out there and soak down the entire area. He was also going to clean up all the tools and hoses and put the yard back in order. He smartly replied with a "Yes Maam" while I went inside to shower.

When all was said and done, we were able to save the day. And the field. My finger still hurts though.