The eggs that broke the mama's back

Let's face reality square in the face... I will never catch up. But, I think I will start blogging again as it is my only form of family history.

What better way to restart than an honest illustration of what the first few months of Grady's life were like.  I wrote this in my journal in June:

When Russell was one, I occasionally watched one of his little one year old friends for a few hours a week.  Her name was Katie.  She was the third child.

One day her mama dropped her off and said, “Call me if she starts to throw up.  This morning I found her sucking on raw eggs shells in the kitchen garbage.  I don’t know how long she was doing it before I found her.”

I was a little shocked by this statement.  Do not misunderstand; I am not one to judge a fellow mom.  I personally think the moms I know are truly trying their very best to parent their children correctly while gripping to a bit of their sanity.  I was just having difficulty imagining a scenario where Russell would have an opportunity to suck raw eggs shells in the trash for an unidentifiable period of time.

Many times since I have chuckled at this thought.  I mean, who doesn’t have an opportunity to suck raw egg shells in the trash for an unidentifiable period of time?  Honestly!

But on Wednesday God had the last laugh.  We were getting ready to scoot our four booty’s out the door and get to Russell’s swim lesson.  I had dressed and fed Russ and Luke and myself by 9 a.m.  Grady was sleeping and as soon as he woke up I would nurse him, change him strap all three kids in the Sonata and be on our way.  I heard Grady’s cry and I ran into his room, picked his soft little body up, gave him a nuzzle, sat in the glider and began feeding the little babe.  

I sat there peacefully adoring little Grady, deeply appreciating the fact that Russ and Luke had not charged into the room, slammed the door open, yelled, “Hi Grady! Hi Mommy! As loud as they could and climbed all over me while I nursed.  Ah, peace.

He finished nursing in a few minutes and I was off to change his diaper and load up the kiddos. 

I walked into the kitchen with Grady in my arms and my jaw dropped.  I was stunned.  There stood Russ and Luke grinning from ear to ear with forty eggs smashed all over the kitchen floor and Lukey’s head.  I do not exaggerate the quantity.  You know those 60 egg crates from Costco?  That was what they had found. 

It was the slimiest, gooiest, thickest mess I had experienced in motherhood.  They were practically bathing in salmonella slime.

I started to laugh, which is my natural reaction to uncomfortable or shocking situations. 

I heard that little head voice say, “You need evidence of this. Grab the camera.”

The kids were excited.  Russell seemed slightly apprehensive, but relaxed and laughed when he saw me hold up the camera, smile and say, “Cheese.”

I slammed the camera down and yelled, yes yelled, “NOW GO TO TIME OUT!”  The kids were confused.  I was 1/3 laughing –it was funny, 1/3 yelling –I was ticked, and 1/3 crying because I knew I had to clean it up. 

So, Wednesday there were tears at our house. 

At night, when the mess was cleaned up, my tears were cried, and Russell had spent the rest of the day being an absolute angel, Mark and I lay in bed looking at the pictures and imagining how it happened. 

We both had no doubt it was that mischievous little red-head boy who’s little mind sprung the idea.  But we were trying to decide how the eggs were smashed on his head.  I think they were just throwing them as high as they could and watching them crash on the floor.  Lukey probably threw one up in the air and it came right down on his head.  I can see both boys laughing hysterically as they did it again and again.

While I am thoroughly frustrated with my inability to locate the pictures of the boys and the egg mess, these other random pictures of my little mischief makers will have to do for now.