♫ Should I stay or should I go ♫

I'm pretty much terrified to go home over the weekend. Of course, we want to be there for the 4th and all the fun stuff, but people up there are falling apart. My Granny has broken her foot. My Mom called this morning and said her face was swollen up on one side and she was making an emergency trip to the dentist. My sister has recently resumed sending me texts that just say "I hate my life." So with all this going on, I'm going to bring my crazy family of 3 kids and a dog to stay with (and impose on) the grandmother with the bum leg. I don't want her to feel like she needs to do anything. We're not coming on vacation. We're just coming to see everyone.

I'm scared. O_o

Thursday - need I say more?

I'm at home. Finally. I just got the kids sat down with their lunches of pretzels, cheetoes and pineapple chunks I brought home from VBS. I'm wiped. This hard wood chair has never felt so comfortable. It's like muscle nirvana.
Today was crazy. We were late, but I wasn't going to stress about that. I figured it wasn't worth my sanity. So we get there and I'm dropping off Isla and Emily says "So did you bring me a bottle?" I'll pause here while you empathize with the immediate sinking of my already waning mood.

No. I didn't bring a bottle. Or any formula for that matter. I dropped off Selah Jade at her class and then begged my Mom-in-law to hold her pager and be in charge while I ran home with Noah in tow to get the bottle and formula sections that I had left on the kitchen counter.

I get back to the church and drop Noah at his class (that had been in the sanctuary when we left - so I couldn't drop him off) and they were just finishing up their craft - his favorite part. I gave him a laffy taffy from the adult snacks kitchen as a peace offering. All it did was make a big pink stain down the front of his new white shirt from not being able to fit the WHOLE THING in his mouth at one time. C'est la vie.

When I got to Selah Jade's classroom to pick her up and they started apologizing, my heart sank. There she was, cuddled up in a rocking chair snoozing away and had been for the past hour. Awesome.

I tried to get Noah to go to the bathroom. He protested and assured me he didn't need to go. As we're pulling out of the church parking lot, I hear "Mom, I have to go to the bathroom." Which was, of course, met with a barrage of "Too bad." "I told you to go in there." "Don't you dare pee in your pants." "NOT IN THE CAR." "Wait til we get home!" Etc.

By the way, Isla's skin is still falling off from her yeast rash. Is it 6 o' clock yet?

Gnarly

It stinks in here. What in the world is going on?! Is that the dog? The trash can? One of the children?! Surely not.

There is a smell in here that would wake the dead. Chris said he could smell it over the weekend, but I couldn't. I guess it's because I live here. I just get used to these things I thought, but nooo. This is something awful. I'm beginning to think something has died. Seriously. A mouse? A squirrel? Oh how I hate rodents. We've never had a problem with them before. I've cleaned. I've mopped. Something strange is afoot at the Mendez home.  (You young 'uns wont get the reference)

How does one go about finding the source of said odor? I have no idea. I almost don't want to find it... for fear of what I'll find. Ew. When is Chris going to be home again?

::stalling::

I hate doing dishes y'all. Hate it with a passion. Sitting here writing about hating dishes is my last ditch effort to avoid doing them. They're sitting there in the sink staring at me and if we plan on eating dinner, they're going to have to be done. I got rid of most of my dishes (I had 3 or 4 sets) so I wouldn't be able to put it off. If I had the option, I'd let them sit until ALL 4 SETS of dishes were spent and then we'd probably have to call in a professional.

I only kept my favorite dishes and got rid of the rest. Now when I procrastinate, it's not the END of the world... just... well... I still hate it.

Anyway, all this to say, I need some new dishes. When you get rid of all your dishes you don't absolutely need... and you have small children who signal they're done with their oatmeal by throwing their bowl on the floor and saying "Uh oh!" as the thing shatters into hundreds of pieces, you end up with a dish shortage and a need to buy dishes. Oh, the irony.

Any chance it's cheaper to just use paper plates? I didn't think so.

Golden tomato

How much have you ever paid for a tomato? I'm not talking about Wal-Mart rollback tomatoes. I'm talking about Farmers Market tomatoes where they're straight off the vine and perfectly ripe. You're thinking *I'd give a pretty penny for a tomato like that* aren't ya?

Well, I can beat that. I gave more than 4000 pennies for A TOMATO. And I even had to put the blood, sweat and tears into growing it because it came out of MY garden!

Why a $40 tomato, Rylee? Why?

Because that's what all the plants, planters, potting soil, plant feeder, etc cost me to grow this tomato. Because my tomato plants seem to have given their 2 week notice and this is the only fruit I've been able to harvest. Because some species of worm has moved in to one of my plants and taken up residence. And if I don't get any more fruit off of these plants, I will have put 2 months of my life and more than $40 into THIS tomato. Lord help me.

Stranger Danger

Lately I've been trying to talk to Noah about what to do if he were to get separated from me in a public place. This subject is delicate and it's harder than I thought it would be. How do you explain to an innocent little boy that there are evil, horrible people in the world who would hurt him and take him from his family without thinking a second thought about it? How do you equip him for a scenario where he finds himself alone in a crowd? How do you explain the gravity of the consequences of the wrong choices in these situations without scaring the kid for life?

I made up a song that has his full name and his address in it. We sang it over and over and over and over and over until he had it down. Now when I ask him, "Who are you?" he sings the song. Next up will be the task of having him memorize my phone number. I've made sure he knows my name. I remember being a very little kid lost in an airport. I knew all the right things to do. I went up to a desk and told the employee that I was lost. She asked me who I was there with. I told her I was with my Grandad. She asked what his name was so she could page him over the loud speaker. I told her again, matter-of-factly "His name is Grandad." They ended up paging "Grandad" over the airport intercom and he came running. Paging "Mom" would probably prove to be more difficult. There weren't as many bad people in the world back then either.

I've been kidnapped. Thank goodness they didn't get very far - my Mama was hot on their trail. As a young teen, I had a strange man in wal-mart try to get me to come with him. These things happen and I just want them to be prepared.

So how do you address this topic? I mean the obvious "Hang on to your kids in the store!" thing is great, but the reality is, there are bad people out there; sneeky, bad people and I don't want my kid's face on a milk carton. What do you think?

Don't throw that away! It's soft!

A hoarder. Something I never thought I would be, but turns out, I am. Not for the things you'd expect either. I've gotten rid of all my old yearbooks. I don't have any team or class shirts. I didn't hold on to any old school papers or childhood trinkets. I've only kept 2 toys from my childhood with the intent of passing them down to my own children. (One was my very favorite polly pocket and the other is a GI Joe still in the box that I believe may hold some value.)

BUT

Seems I have trouble getting rid of other things; soft things and things that bring me comfort. Pajamas, pillows, blankets and jackets are among the worst offenders. WHY do I feel the need to hang on to that 100-year-old t-shirt that's 5 sizes too big, is older than I am and comes out of the wash each time with a new hole I could stick my arm through?!

It's comfortable.

As a Mom, this has become priority one. Why yes, I am cuddling up with this blanket in June. Don't look at me like that! IT'S SOFT, DAD-GUM-IT!

There was a reason that the Mama bear had the cushiest chair and bed. Motherhood demands cush. Speaking of cush, I'm feeling a little fluffy. June 1st has become day numero uno of operation lose-all-this-weight-I've-yet-to-lose-after-having-3-kids. I'll let you know how it goes. OORAH!