If you look at this photo closely, you’ll learn something small about me that’s not so small. It’s actually a part of who I am. Notice the price tag on the bottom of my boot. This is really the story of my life. I’ve never had it all together. Not once. I am not a together person. But I did get the boots on sale, a really good spring sale at Nordstrom’s Rack. I go there once a year, okay maybe twice a year, but my hunt at the Rack is all about the boots.

I love boots.

I could live in boots.

I’d like to wear boots in summertime, too, but don’t want people to think I am a freak. This boot thing isn’t about fashion. I grew up in the Sutter Buttes where rattlesnakes are more common than raccoons. Twice, I’ve had snakes strike at me and was saved by a pair of cowboy boots. The snake’s poisonous fangs bounced off my boots and I didn’t get bit like my mom has been bitten three times in her tennis shoes. Plus I love horses and when a horse steps on your foot in a pair of sandals– you in the sandals, not the horse– your foot turns black and you think it might fall off. I learned this at seven-years-old, with plenty of reinforcement from my Grandma Helen who ran a horse stables when I was small. She wore boots year around and was always after me to keep my boots on. To her boots were safety equipment.

So I could live in boots. But I’m vain enough not too, because I don’t want to look stupid in boots after about May. Though on our farm, I wear my boots, and when I don’t, I regret it because the red ants always find me. When I run out to the garden to grab a few tomatoes in my sandals I get attacked by red ants. It never fails and the bites itch like crazy, especially on the second day. I’ve learned that rubbing baby Orajel on the bites helps deaden the pain so I still carry baby Orajel in my purse though I no longer have a teething baby.

The baby I do have is three now. He’s a runaway toddler who poops his pants so I’ve taken to staying home with him for the time being. This is why we are out of bread and peanut butter, two things our family lives on. I can’t stand the thought of taking Cruz to the grocery store or anywhere else for that matter right now. I was going to take him to Sam’s Club today because we really need bread and peanut butter and milk, but the thought of wrestling him into his car seat– this in itself is like stuffing a cat in the toilet– then letting him out of his car seat in a public place with the chance of him taking off and outrunning me about makes me break out in hives. When he runs away in a busy parking lot I stop breathing. You’d think after seven kids I wouldn’t suffer from anxiety like this, but I’ve never had a child outrun me before.

I pride myself on being fast. I’ve always been fast. When I was in elementary school, I could outrun all the girls and all the boys in the school except one. Brett, the boy in a grade ahead of me, he was really fast. But on a windy day, I could outrun Brett too.

On a windy day, Cruz can now outrun me. And sometimes on a sunny day if he gets the jump on me. This just seems so unfair. That God would give me a toddler who outruns me. It makes me feel old. I told my friend this the other day and she said, “It’s about time.” I thought she meant it’s about time I feel old, but then she explained it’s about time one of my boys outruns me. It’s really normal for little boys to outrun their middle-aged mothers, is what she meant. “You’re really fast,” she assured me. “Cruz is just extra fast.”

This is the third blog I’ve written in the past three days. The other two aren’t post-able. Mixing politics and PMS just isn’t working for me this week. I’ve vowed to be an encouraging blogger, someone who writes uplifting spiritual stuff. But I don’t feel uplifting and spiritual tonight. I feel tired. Tomorrow is Election Day and I can’t wait for it all to be over. The political phone calls. The awful election advertisements. The endless news stories about our broken Congress. The state of the government is so depressing, I think both Republicans and Democrats would agree with me on this. I used to be an Independent because that seemed so smart to me when I was young and in college and signed up to vote. Now I’m a reluctant Republican who refused to vote for California’s governor when I marked my ballot because the Republican running against Governor Brown is a social liberal and this is the heart of my Republicaness. I want to save all the babies. Saving the water for farmers in California has become pretty important to me, too. I don’t understand why we can’t replant the delta smelt and salmon when the rains come back. Instead it looks like California will have to replant her farmers.

So I’ll just stay home on Election Day, thanks. I did vote because so many brave young soldiers have died to give me this voting privilege down through the ages so I won’t squander it. I mailed in my ballot a few days ago, but my heart is staying home tomorrow when the polls open because our government is like me and my son: the Democrats are runaway toddlers with poop in their pants and the Republicans old, worn-out moms with a price tag on their boots.