Of Course He Did!

Today was one of those days were I had to pull out all the stops. We were running late. I hadn't given Eli his mock spelling test yet. We were out of groceries, and the kids were starting to get on each other’s nerves. So I did what any good stressed out mom would do… I bribed them with donuts.

I promised that we’d drive through the donut shop if they could just get their act together and work together as a team.

Part of the whole work together as a team bit included Eli helping Naveen  get dressed. Now, I don’t know about you, but I don’t think a brown and orange striped shirt and blue and red plaid shorts match each other. So I left the shorts in place and quickly changed Naveen’s shirt and we were outta there!

After they scarfed down the donuts and I dropped them off at school, the rest of the kids and I decided to hit a garage sale on the way back home.  Now, if you've read my blog for a long time, then you know that garage sales are in my blood. The first dollar I ever made was back in 1978 helping my granddad sell little plastic bird whistles that you fill up with water and blow. My granddad did flea markets, my parents still set up at a flea market, and I've been going to them since before I could walk. And the kids... well, they love them, too. And since it's finally getting cool enough in the mornings to go, then I figured I might as well introduce Naveen to the power of a bargain, too.

So, today, we hit the jackpot. It's not always like that around here. We live in a lake community, where the weekenders are rich, but the locals are struggling. It's a really weird atmosphere. Most of the kids out here are on free lunches and it's a Title 1 school.  But the summers and weekends bring a lot of out-of-towners to the lake and the whole town atmosphere changes.  Anyway, one of the lake homes decided to have a garage sale, and hot diggity, was it smokin'!

Y'all.  Oh my gosh, was this lady fancy. I have never seen so much high dollar stuff at a garage sale before in my life. You could tell she was dripping with money. And don't you know I did my best to squeeze my size 8 foot into a pair of size 7 gray python skin boots. I don't even like snakes. Or boots.  But I figure if I need to overcome my fear of snakes then the best way to do that is to wear a dead python on a pair of $400 boots that I paid 10 bucks for.  But, alas, it just wasn't happening. It was like the ugly stepsister trying to squeeze her manky toes into Cinderella's beautiful glass slipper. It would've killed me.  And it nearly did. It wasn't pretty at all and now my feet are cramped and aching and begging for a foot chiropractor. What's that called?

A podiatrist?

A husband?

Anyway, this lady obviously suffered from Imelda Marcos syndrome because there were shoes everywhere. AND, as an added bonus, she had a little grandson who was just a size bigger than Naveen, which meant that all his size 7's and 8's were going for a dollar. SCORE!

There were little bitty Nike Shox, and Sketchers, and some high dollar flip flops with skulls on them. I don't even like skulls for kids, but I figure Naveen's feet will hide them and they were just 50 cents. But then, my eyes spied the best deal of the day. A pair of Dinosoles! Y'all! They've got 3D dinosaurs on them! And they look like a dinosaur! And they're so stinkin' ugly that they're cute! Like a chihuahua! Or a weenie dog.  And even though Naveen's not into dinosaurs, I will force him. I WILL FORCE HIM! Because Eli still isn't completely over his SEVEN year obsession with all things T-Rex and Stegosaurus, which means I have SEVEN years of dinosaur sweaters and dinosaur shirts and dinosaur pajamas and even dinosaur underwear to pass on to this poor, unsuspecting child.  And if the dinosaur thing clicks, then that means I won't have to buy another Halloween costume or Easter basket or toy for the next six years.  And that is just too good of a deal to pass on.

So, by golly, I scooped up those Dinosoles and declared them the best things in the world and made my way to the lady with the apron.

And we got to talking... this Fancy Lady and me.... and I found out that she has a garage sale twice a year and that she always puts her grandson's clothes in the garage sale. And if I'm diligent enough and watch the signs, then Naveen Aashish Thomas is set for life. I will never have to buy him a $100 pair of tennis shoes in high school because I'll just get them from the Fancy Lady's garage sale. And if I can force Naveen into playing soccer, then I'll never have to buy him brand new cleats because I'll just buy them from the Fancy Lady's garage sale.  And, if for some reason, Naveen grows up to be a cross dresser and needs a gorgeous pair of Size 7 gray python boots or soft gorgeous brown calfskin boots with turquoise accent (oooooh they were beautiful) then I'll just take him to the Fancy Lady's garage sale and he'll be set.

The point is, the heavens opened and led me to the mecca of garage sales this morning and I'll never have to buy Naveen another pair of shoes again.

Ever.

So. We finally made our way back to the car... grinning from ear to ear and on a high that I haven't had since I went to Amsterdam back in 1995, and as I buckled Naveen in the car, I got a whiff of something.

"Naveen, what's that smell?"

"Poop!"

"What? Where?"  So I quickly checked his pants and didn't see a bit of poop anywhere. I also didn't see any underwear.  I suspect that Eli didn't put any on him this morning, the lazy slacker.

Still puzzled. I buckled myself in and started the car and then my eyebrows knit together and I whipped around and said,

"Naveen! Did you poop?"

He smiled real big and said, "YES!"

Oh sweet Jesus.  "Where did you poop?"

"Ova der!" And he pointed to the direction of the Fancy Lady's house.

And I swear, in slow motion, my head turned to the direction he was pointing and my eyes got big, as I spotted two things of poop sitting smack dab in the Fancy Lady's driveway. Honestly, y'all, time stood still. The blood drained out of my face, my whole body froze, and all I could think was... my kid sh** in the Fancy Lady's driveway! My kid SH** in the Fancy Lady's driveway!"

And I knew at once that there'd never be fancy gray python skin boots in my future. The closest we'd ever get to a pair of Nike Shox would be the shock of the full price retail tag. And as for sports? Forget soccer. He'll just have to take up barefoot running.

And with that, I drove away. I did. I totally panicked and took the coward way out. I left the poop just sitting right there for the Fancy Lady to clean up. Or some stray dog to come and eat. Or whatever the protocol is for cleaning up poop from some random kid at your garage sale.

I mean, I don't drive around with a bottle of bleach in my car.  I don't have a Poop First Aid Kit sitting in my glove box. Shoot, I didn't even have a plastic bag on me.  What's a mortified mom supposed to do?

So, I drove off in a cloud of shame with my kid's sh** sitting in the Fancy Lady's driveway and my dreams of cheap expensive shoes left in the dust.

And, oh, how I hope karma doesn't come back to bite me in the butt on that one!