Stone Me Now

I was tired.

Maybe it was the stress of this past month. Maybe it was the frustration of being thwarted on every try to connect with my internet.

Maybe it was the last few days of whipping the kids from here to there with the timing of a souffle chef.

It could have been the hours I keep-- up until midnight trying to salvage the house, visits in the night by people whose heads don't reach the top of my bed and up again at six when the radiators groan Miss Ky awake.

It could have been THIS morning when I rose early to latch kids into car seats to fetch one grumpy (non-)sleepover guest from the party he attended so that he could quickly don his kit while his football coach waited in our driveway.
Or being late for church as we fished J2's wellie out of the ford since the water was finally low enough for us to see it.

Or the panic when I lost my keys and knew not only did I not have a way home, but no way to get in if I did--knowing that A1 was being dropped at my house in 20 minutes.

Or later in the afternoon when Miss Ky, the un-defeatable eating machine demanded a yogurt and while I stepped out of the room, threw that yogurt in fistfulls all over the sitting room white carpet and white sofas-- blueberries and all.

It could have been those minor incidents that led to the exhaustion that caused me to foolishly fall asleep while Miss Ky watched The Gruffalo in my bedroom.
As my dreams wrapped around the tune of "That's what Gruffalos do... ooh la-lala ooh la-lala" sprinkled with moments of "I have an owie" (to which I would open one eye and try to focus on a blurry finger pushed nearly to my forehead "mmmhmm, yeahyouhaveanowie") there was a lot of wiggling.

Then I heard...swish swish. swish swish. I wondered, "What is she trying to wipe off of the pillow?"

LIPSTICK.
The same colour of lipstick that used to be in my purse, not that there was any doubt WHERE it came from since there was a telltale pile of credit cards, driver's licenses, and cheques torn into little pieces.

Lipstick on my white duvet cover and pillowcases. You know the ones. The ones I picked up in Spain on the trip I loved so much I swore I'd go back for my 40th birthday-- which happened to come right after war broke out in Iraq and military spouses traveling single overseas was discouraged so I spent that birthday working a church youth conference instead. The planned trip that nearly 5 years later has still never happened. THAT bedding.

I put this same child up for auction on Face Book after she used a black sharpie marker on the same white sofa. I only got one $5 bid for her and an offer for exchange with a purple marker wielding toddler. Neither offer appealed to me, even the cash flasher since that $5 bidder still lives in the same house I do.

My timing must be wrong. I guess I need to wait until the stimulus package gets distributed and people are again wanting to buy a two year-old.

Judge me all you want, but not until she's planted in your house and climbing your cabinets and throwing your yogurt with lipstick and sharpie covered hands.