So Maybe It's the Dress...

I had the kids in Target a few weeks ago. It was 6 o'clock at night. Sister and Little Man had some money they'd set aside to spend. We'd been in Target for two hours because they had to figure out every combination of stuff they could possibly buy with $7 in all of Target and then evaluate and re-evaluate their options. These things are important and take time, you know?



As we were headed out I spotted this cute blue dress. Tried it on over my clothes (because that's what you do when it's past dinner time and you have three children in Target) and purchased said dress.



I wore it to church the following Sunday. As soon as the service was over, I bolted to the nearest bathroom and waited in line. An elderly woman emerged from the first of two stalls. It was a tiny, tiny stall - the kind where you have to stand sideways between the toilet and the wall to close the door.



Now, I'd been waiting a long time to get to the bathroom and so I didn't delay. Nor did I pay much attention. I very quickly realized something was very wrong.



 THE SEAT WAS DOWN.

I stopped mid-stream and grabbed the tp, cleaned up my mess. Felt the overwhelming mortification. Wondered if anyone could see me through the crack in the door - wiping off the toilet with tp...Lifted the lid. Plopped down and finished business all while wondering how in the world I would explain the need to halt a long line to grab some clorox wipes and disinfect the area - not to mention, we are new in the church. This was maybe our second or third Sunday. SO maybe that will play in my favor and they'll never remember me - I won't wear the dress for a while - or maybe they'll always remember me. And then I'm wondering if there even are clorox wipes or any type cleaner anywhere in the bathroom...by now I stand to flush. And I'm very concerned about how I'm going to get out of this - because I can't just let the next lady come in and use the toilet. It was all wiped off, but ugh - how gross! And then, it was like it happened in slow motion. The toilet filled...and it kept filling...and it filled some more...and then there was a gush and the water began spilling over the sides and I was yelling "oh! OH! OH! How do I turn the water off?" So I'm leaning over the toilet trying to turn the valve and it won't turn - or maybe it wasn't there - I think there wasn't a valve - all I remember is another lady yelling to turn the valve and I was and it wasn't stopping and now there's water - toilet water - all over my dress and IN my shoes and between my toes and ladies are leaving the bathroom because the toilet water is rushing out over the bathroom floor and there's a drain, but the water isn't going down it... the lady in the next stall is rushing to evacuate because the water was running under her stall. I opened the door and walked out.



I was soaked - it was even on my arms from trying to cut the water - and I kept saying, "I am so sorry. I am SO sorry. I promise. It was JUST toilet paper." And the ladies - now there are only two left -the one who'd been in the other stall and the one who'd yelled for me to turn off the water - they are sort of staring at me. They tell me they've never met me. I tell them I'm knew. They smile tell me what a great excuse to meet. I tell them I'll forever be "that girl who made the toilet overflow." They tell me they've never seen it happen before, "but it is an old church."



At least I was off the hook for tee-teeing all over the toilet.

I don't think I'll ever use that bathroom again. And if we worship at the same church - rest assured, lesson learned, and the bathroom was well cleaned after the fact. I've since been asked if I plan on attending the "ova-flow service?"



So I hung the blue dress in my closet and waited to wear it again...until this past Sunday.

We are standing and singing and it's during worship and it's very crowded and we are on the back row. Late comers and deacons stand behind us.



Little Man, without intending to, slips his hand under my dress and then lifts both arms (the dress hits right above my knee), wanting me to hold him. Only, when he lifted both arms, he lifted my dress and slip much, much higher than they should EVER go. Like - I flashed everyone behind us.



I slammed my hands down, trying to push my dress back down - and CUT Little Man's face with my nails - took a chunk out of the corner by his eye and nose and left a long thin slice from the corner of his eye to his cheek.

He burst into tears. Couldn't stop. We had to walk out.



It was awesome.

In other news we had a fun fourth! Aside from The Engineer and I having a little disagreement about a shrub that one of us had already cut back drastically that may or may not have resulted in me crying on the driveway and a note from Sister that read, "To the Grate Mom. I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." -John 16:33



But after that was said and done we went to a fun parade and picnic. Mama helped me bake and decorate 50 cupcakes - which we made into a flag. Little Bit stuck her fingers in ten of them. I took them anyway. Just like that. Another mother saw her teens over by the cupcakes. They got in trouble for scraping icing off ten of them. Hee hee. I found out later and told her what had really happened.



During Mama's visit we have worked NON-STOP in the yard! The Engineer began clearing some underbrush in the back part of the yard and discovered a giant brick composter which could really work to our advantage since we don't have a disposal.



Mama and I found a few treasures buried in the beds, too. A blue glass bottle. A wrought iron plant stand and a metal topiary form. A purple easter egg. Two red plastic champagne flutes. And lots of trash. We've hauled close to 20 bags of yard debris to the street.



And the blower is broken so I took it to a small engine shop yesterday. You should've heard me explaining what was wrong...

Dude: So what's going on with your blower?

Me: Well, it won't go.

Dude: Okay, so it won't turn on.

Me: Well, no. It won't, you know, go.

Dude: So it won't stay on?

Me: Well, not exactly. See we moved here about two months ago and when I used it before we moved it turned on but it just wouldn't you know, go.

Dude: So...(confused look on his face) it won't throttle?

Me: I guess. It would turn on and stay on, but wouldn't you now, ramp up.

Dude: Throttle?

Me: I guess.

Dude: Ok, (starts typing) stays running but won't throttle.

Me: Well, back then it would stay running, but my husband went to tinker with it a few days ago and it would crank but wouldn't stay on. So, yeah, now it turns on, just won't stay on.

Dude: Ok ma'am, we'll just call you when we know what's wrong with it.

ha.

Happy Wednesday!