We almost died.

It's true.  It was a very scary few moments. 

Looking back, I feel pride in the way I have raised my children.  The values and priorities I have taught them.  You see, the entire time we were being attacked, Jack was holding my mint brownie from Kneaders.  And when we got inside there was only one small dent in the perfect chocolate layer covering the fluffy mint frosting.  He's a hero.  A mint brownie hero.

Anyway, yesterday was doozy of a day.  A DOOZY OF A DAY.  It was all kinds of wrong and emotional and after everything had calmed down, I picked my kids up from my kind and loving mother, and we went to Kneaders for dinner.

Now I usually order a half sandwich and then add on the combo with the soup.  But yesterday was a doozy of a day so I skipped the soup and instead ordered a brownie AND an éclair.  This proved to be a nice healing balm on my beat up heart.  This is why I was on a slight sugar high...and why we had our hands full when we were attacked.  ALSO, I had my Kneaders cup heaping full of crushed ice.  HEAPING.  And I don't like anyone touching my ice.  The iron infusions haven't kicked in yet, obviously.

So we parked our car and walked up to the back door which was locked up like Fort Knox.  The deadbolt and the doorknob locks were securely in place.  Each one requires it's own key to unlock.  The keys were in my hand with my cup of very important ice. 

We three stood on the porch together. Halle held the screen door open and I stood unlocking the door with Jack behind me.  I had just unlocked the doorknob lock and was in the process of remembering that the deadbolt required a different key when my sweet Halle said:

"Look Mom!  Someone put a nest on our light!  Awwwww, it's soooo cute!" 

I looked up to the porch light that was no more than 7 inches above my head and there sat a beautiful, freshly made that day, nest.  Before a thought could even register, it happened.

We were attacked.  By the maker of the nest, obviously.

She swooped in from the tree above us.  There was no noise from the bird, only the bloody murder scream of my almost 12 year old.  In my ear. 

The bird flew violently at us and the hovered above our heads flapping it's wings.  It's wings repeatedly touched my head and Jack's.  We all instantly collapsed almost to the ground.  I attribute this to having a Marine in the bloodline.  Their bodies were pressed against me and the door with a pressure I haven't felt since they were removed from my uterus.  Halle was bawling and screaming, Jack was quiet...probably in the early stages of shock, and me?  I was laughing hysterically.  I am doing that lately in the most inappropriate times.  I think it's a sign of insanity setting in.

From my position near the ground, I somehow managed to get the right key in the keyhole, but the pressure from our bodies on the door prevented the key from disengaging the deadbolt.  In a heave of strength, I pushed us all back a few inches, turned the key and we all fell inside the door.  I had a split moment fear of the bird following us in.  That happened once...a bird in the house, and it took us a long time to recover.

Once inside, we slammed the door shut.  The dog, who had been barking in a fit of panic hearing Halle screaming, was over joyed to see us.  She licked me, and the kids, and to my horror the ice cup.  Jack offered up the nearly perfect brownie.  My heart swelled with pride and tear came to my eye.  Halle obliviously asked if she could have it.  We had to debrief the experience and talk about what happened to us for a full 15 minutes.  When I asked if the bird was a Robin, Jack said:

"No!  It was those huge black birds!  An EAGLE."

I said:

"You mean a Magpie?"

"Yeah...."

I hugged him and told him that it FELT like and Eagle attack.

And now, we only use the front door.