The worse it gets, the better the story

Someday I will want this day back.

This morning Natalie would not wake up. "Five more minutes, mom." (Whaaaat the fast forward 10 years.) It was the "There's hot french toast with syrup on the table wating for you...cut up...with milk...and peanut butter...and syrup...and some more syrup..." that finally got her up. She only ate 5 bites! That should have triggered something in me as a mother since she normally downs 2 slices she love it so.
On the way to church she started complaining her stomache hurt (you already know where this is going) and I told her (being a sensitive mother) "Next time you should eat your breakfast so you don't get hungry."
Well, long story short, before the talks even began Natalie had tossed her cookies all over the bench, floor, herself, but amazingly missed the hymn books.
Lovely. Just for future reference...remember all the "syrup, peanut butter, and more syrup goodness" reference I made earlier? It's not goodness and it is not a reverent smell after it goes down and spends sometime with gastric acid. Jared left with the kids and I stayed to put on my "biohazard clean-up" hat. I finished out the meeting which was actually really good and tried not to feel so terrible about the whole thing. Those sitting around us were more than generous by telling me they couldn't smell a thing. I was on the verge of loosing it. Not so much because it was embarassing or anything because stuff like this happens and it's ridiculous to feel ashamed your three year old lost it, right? No, I wanted to cry because so many people didn't think twice in helping me. I wanted to cry because I have sat through church by myself too many time in the past year and a half while Jared's been gone and the Sunday this occurs, he happens to be here. What a blessing. I don't know what I would have done had I been alone...leave church and ask someone to clean it up for me? Yeah right and yet I couldn't have stayed through the meeting with her sick and covered in barf. I promised myself right then to be the first to jump up and help someone else in an bad situation.

Anyway, someday I will want this day back because I will want my sweet baby to hold, my sweet girl to be little again. I will want to relive this day because there is much happiness in life even with all it's gross-ness.

After the meeting, the bishop helped me make sure it was all disinfected properly, etc. So he and I are surveying the damage to the bench and are both quite for a minute when he says, "You know, they are going to replace all the upholstry in here this year." Ha ha ha!!! I asked, "Tomorrow?" We constructed a sort of crime scene with a lot of tape from the library to warn people this wasn't an ordinary wet spot and asked him what I should write on the sign. He said something like, "Vomit was here. Do not sit." It was something like that and very, very funny. After considered all of our possible verbage, I opted for "Bench out of order. Please do not use." Sometimes it's better to let people wonder what exactly happened and leave out all the specifics.

This is my word-of-the-wise for all you readers out there and a note to self. If you have the unfortunate experience of this happening in your ward, do not ask the mother, or father, "Did you know she was sick?" Please! I really was not taking offense, but it sort of hurt my feelings. (Enter sarcasm) What did you expect me to say? That I knew she was sick but I think it's fun to have her throw up in a public place and thank you for just making conversation since you couldn't think of anything else to say off the top of your head? (Exit sarcasm.) Really, it was harmless and completely unintentional, but I heard it one too many times and it kinda rubbed in the "I'm a terrible mom" feeling and sure made the tears brim. I'm sure I've said countless things similar to this that wasn't probably the most tactful thing to say, so I'm much more aware of how what I say will come across to others now. :) Life is the best teacher.

Well, we'll see if anyone sits in that bench next week. (If I can remember my camera I'll snap a shot of the brave---or unknowing---souls.)