Playing Tooth Fairy

Well, the triplets have reached that age.

No, not the age were we can send them off into the world to fend for themselves, tempting as that may be, that is not the age I am talking about.

The triplets have reached the age where they are loosing teeth. Dropping those little pearly whites like we have never brushed their teeth, taken them to the dentist and fed them sugar since birth.

Ok, maybe not dropping them that fast and so far only Jake and Quinn have lost teeth but I know more are coming. The dam is about to break and soon I may need mash up all their food since they won’t have any teeth left in their heads.

Every day one of them will tell me, “Mom, this tooth is loose or this tooth hurts.” I’m preparing myself to see a lot of toothless grins.

What does reaching this right of passage mean, besides the fact that the next time I blink my three babies will be asking for the keys to the car? Well, it means that Jeff and I get to play tooth fairy.

Childhood is grand for it’s innocence and the belief in magic. I’m all for keeping it that was as long as possible. It’s just that having to play tooth fairy or more honestly, remembering to play the tooth fairy is hard.

You would think that since it’s happening more and more often around this house it would get easier but no, it’s not.

I mean poor Quinn, the second tooth he lost the tooth fairy forgot to come for two nights in a row. How are she do that to him. Poor kid was crushed. And my mommy guilt was at an all time high so much so I begged Jeff to give me lashes with a wet noodle.

I don’t mean to forget and neither does Jeff but for some reason, slipping into their rooms and exchanging that tooth for a golden dollar is one of the most difficult things in the world. I think it would be easier to get Kim Kardashian’s stop being a reality TV star.

We’ve tried all kinds of ways to remember, setting alerts, writing notes, even asking the cat to remind us. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t.

boy with a lost tooth

This time it was Jake’s turn to loose a tooth. Actually, I pulled it out during our family movie night movie because I was kind of sick of seeing it dandle by a thread. It was his first loose tooth, the first one he lost and judging but the loose ones next to it, it won’t be long until another one can be yanked from his head.

As we tucked the kids in and said prayers, he put that tooth under his pillow and talked non-stop about how the tooth fairy would come. Jeff and I gave each other ‘the look’ and as soon as the kids were all in bed, Jeff retrieved a golden dollar from the hiding spot.

“What are you doing?” I ask as Jeff started up the stairs again.

“Going to make the exchange,” he said.

“Um… they just went to bed. We kinda have to wait until he’s asleep.” I said.

“Oh, yeah” Jeff answered as he walked back down. “Where should I put this so that we will remember to do it later?”

I stopped for a moment, that was the million dollar question.

“Just set it on the counter, then we’ll see it when we head to bed,” I said.

Jeff walked over to the counter and set the golden dollar down but then paused. “The only thing that setting his coin here will mean is that Jake will find it here and not under his pillow in the morning.”

I laughed, he had an excellent point.

“Do you have a better idea?” I asked.

He shrugged and I turned my attention to my phone that was beeping with some twitter love.

The night progressed as planned with Jeff and I settling in to watch a movie together which meant that soon all tooth fairy duties were forgotten.

We were mid movie when I needed a bathroom break.

“Pause it, please” I said as I jumped up and ran into our bedroom and to the bathroom.

I flipped the light on in the room and something on the bed made me stop. I walked over to investigate.

A baking pan?!

At first I was confused, why was there a baking pan on the bed? I almost gathered it up to put it away but then I saw the golden dollar and smiled. Jeff had placed the baking pan on the bed with the golden dollar in it so that he couldn’t get into bed without dealing with the pan and remembering to play tooth fairy.

Sometimes that husband of mine is completely brilliant.

I think I’ll keep him.



Six Year Old Sex Ed


“Mommy, what’s that circle thingy under my penis where the pee comes from?” Jake asked from the top of the stairs.

It was just after bath time. The kids were getting pj’s on and I was finishing cleaning up dinner. I set the dish down that I was washing, grabbed a towel and walked over to him,  “What?” I said, very confused.

“That circle thingy under my penis has all the lines on it, what is that?” he asked again, not really clearing things up any.

I just looked at him, for the life of me I couldn’t figure out what in the world he was talking about. Circle thing?

“Jake, that is your pee sack,” Quinn jumped in and clarified. “It holds all your pee.”

Finally the light bulb went off and I understood what he was talking about. Jake was asking about his scrotum.

Now, I kinda think that because I don’t have a penis, I shouldn’t have to teach the boys about theirs. I will talk vagina all day long with Claire but I am not the penis expert in the house. I wanted to call for Jeff to field this line of questioning. He has a penis he should answer the questions but I am a nurse for goodness sake, I can handle this. It is just anatomy.

“Boys,” I began, “that is not your ‘pee sack’ or where pee comes from, it is called your scrotum and it holds your testicles.”

They just looked at me and immediately both their hands went south and began to fondle.

“What’s testmacles?” Quinn asked.

Oh man. I totally opened that door. Now how was I supposed to explain what testicles were for without going giving a full sex ed lesson. I was walking a very fine line.

I decided being honest and scientific was the only way. Let the questions come, I am good at dancing around things and confusing them with science and big words if needed.

“You need your testicles because they make something that you will need to make a baby. Then you will need a mommy and a daddy to make a baby.” I said.

“How does that work?” Quinn asked, being ever curious about the way things work.

Oh shit. Deep breathes. I can do this.

But before I could figure out an appropriate answer to Quinn’s question, Jake asked, “Well are they, um… bone or metal? Because I really think I should have some medal in my body.”

Say what?

I tried to process what Jake was asking and stop from self from laugh so hard that I would need to change my underwear as Claire busted from her room, naked as the day she was born.

“I HAVE A VAGINA!” she screamed while running.

Both boys giggled at Claire and I knew that I loosing hold of this little anatomy lesson.

“Testicles are not medal or bone. They are organs and squishy,” I tried to explain but Claire doing her version of naked aerobics was more interesting, then listening to me.

“Claire.” I said, “Will you put your vagina away.”

As the words spilled from my mouth, I shook my head. Oh the things I have to say as a mother. Also, if I ever have to say that again, especially during those teen years, it will be too soon.

I took a deep breath. I wanted to continue teaching them about their bodies. This was good stuff to know. But  now all three kids were giggling and jumping around naked. Body parts were going every where.

I sighed, my lesson was done.

And as the three started scooting their naked butt on the carpet like dogs  I yelled… “ALRIGHT!  PLEASE PUT YOUR PENISES AND VAGINA AWAY!”

Yup, subject closed.

Quiet at the Dinner Table

A lot of times when we sit down to eat dinner, I am just quiet.

There is no real reason. I just don’t feel like talking. I think it’s because sitting down to dinner is my signal that we are in the home stretch. The witching hour is drawing to a close and bedtime is around the corner. It’s time for c0-parenting and mostly importantly, it’s probably the first time that I sat down in hours.

I just want to be quiet, be still, eat. And by doing this, I am open to listen.

I hear things like, “Yuck. I am not going to eat this.”

“This is gross. It can’t be food.”

“Is there any bessert?”

But every now and again I hear,  “Thanks for making the food, mom.”

My heart just melts. It doesn’t matter that the one who said it said it because the others were complaining about the food and he is trying to stay on my good side. He said it and I’ll take it.

I look around the table and the people sitting there, the people most important to me in the world and sometimes I get overwhelmed. There is this feeling that washes over me that I can’t explain. It steals my breath so that I couldn’t talk if I wanted too.

I study each person, really looking at them. I remember who they were when they were small and see who they are now.

I don’t feel worthy.

I yell. I scream. I cuss.

I focus on my own needs sometimes more then theirs.

I don’t want to read a bedtime story.

I don’t want to look at this one quick thing.

I fail.

And I do it over and over again.

I constantly question, ‘am I enough?”

But then one of them will catch my eye and smile at me or come over and put their arms around me in a  hug. They don’t know it but it’s in those moments that they save me. They reaffirm that I am enough, that I am what they need most.

children around the dinner table

I can’t help but smile at them. Their chatter makes me laugh. Especially the conversations from the littlest ones while they discuss the drama that is kindergarten.

“I like it when Ava kisses me,” Quinn says with a sheepish grin.

“Ew. Gross. How can you like that” Jake answers with a disgusted tone. “Girls are yucky.”

“No they are not,” Quinn defends himself, “Girls are pretty and I like it when they kiss me. Like when Ava does and Olivia and Kelly.”

I want to say something, tell them there is plenty of time for kissing girls, tell them that 5 is not the age to be worried about kissing but I stay quiet. I just listen.

“My teacher says that kissing is just for your family,” Claire announces, proud to tell of her classroom.

“But I can’t help it if the girls are always kissing me. I want them too. I don’t want to tell them no,” Quinn says exasperated.

“You could run away,” Jake adds.

“No. No. Don’t do that,” Claire adds, “Girls don’t like it when you run away from them. Just marry them instead.”

I can’t hold it in anymore and I laugh. I laugh until my sides ache and I’m gasping for breath. On one hand they are so young and have no idea but on the other hand, they know exactly how it works.

“You all should eat now,” I say when I can breathe again. “We can discuss who you are going to marry another time.”

There is a silence that falls around the table, only the sounds of chewing with the occasional burp and giggle.

“I don’t want to kiss any girls,” Jake says, breaking the stillness of the room.

“You don’t have too,” Hayden says speaking up for the first time. “because maybe you will can kiss a boy. You can’t help who you love or want to kiss.”

I can’t help but smile and my sweet insightful son. He’s right. He has no idea why, to him is just that simple. Love is love.

And that is why I listen. They are so young but so wise. They see the world as pure and beautiful.

I’m supposed to be their teacher but each day, if I can forget how the ride my last nerve and sometimes cause me to wish for a padded cell in the loony bin, they teach me something.

And that is why I’m quiet at the dinner table.

My Kids Want to be Hunters

“Mom what is that sign with the bear and the fish on it?” Jake asked as we drove downtown on our way to choir practice.

“Sorry, Jake. I didn’t see it,” I said as I put my turn signal on.

“There!” Jake shouted, “That one.”

I looked out the window as I turned and saw that he was referring to a sign, advertising a local hunting/outdoor sportsman show which is what I explained to him.

“Huh?” he said, “What do bears and fish have to do with sports.”

“Not sports like baseball,” Hayden chimed in, “Like hunting and fishing those kind of sports, right mom?”

I nodded, “Exactly.”

“Oh. Daddy is a hunter,” Quinn yelled from the back seat.

“Um… No, Quinn. The only hunting daddy does is in computer games for trolls,” I said.

“Yeah, we are talking about hunting in the woods for like deer, turkey and squirrels,” Hayden corrected.

“I wanna be a hunter!” Claire said which caused me to roll my eyes. Of course, I the most girliest girl in the world would have a daughter who wants to hunt. That’s fine, I’ll just go shopping.

“But not you, right momma,” Claire continued, “You don’t wanna be a hunter because you are scared of the woods.”

I sighed, “Sure, something like that.”

“We could all go hunting in our woods for deer,” Hayden said and I was thankful that the subject moved away from my irrational fear of the woods. Because explaining to children that I am afraid of the woods because there might be a Blair Witch out there or a ax murder or a homicidal squirrel was going to take more time that we had in the car.

“Yes! Shoot deer. Let’s shoot deer!” Claire said.

“You know, you have to be very quiet when hunting deer,” I said.

“Why mommy?” Quinn asked.

“Yeah, yeah so that we can shoot them better,” Claire added. Her over excitement about shooting things was beginning to weird me out.

“Deer are very skid-dish animals,” Hayden said. “They get scared very easily so if you want them to come close we have to be quiet.”

“Quiet Game!” Quinn yelled.

“Yeah, kinda like playing the quiet game for a very long time in the woods,” I said.

“Then we they get close, we shoot them!” Claire said.

Ok, wow! She was really getting into this whole shooting thing. I made a mental note to never buy her anything that shoots. This fascination with shooting was a little creepy.

“Then when we kill a deer, we could eat it.” Hayden said.

“Ew!” Quinn said. “I don’t wanna eat cutie deers.”

“Quinn, that’s why people hunt and kill deer for, their meat,” I clarified.

“Yup. And deer meat is delicious… it tastes like chicken.” Hayden said.

I giggled and Quinn gagged and will now probably never eat chicken again. Claire made another comment about wanting to shoot something as Hayden went on to talk about using the animal skins for clothes.

Then Jake who had been very quiet through this whole conversation spoke up.

“I would like to be a hunter,” he said.

“Sure, Jake. I am sure we can talk to Grandpa about teaching you all to hunt and how to do it safely,” I said to him.

“No mommy,” he said “When I am older, I would like to get me a girl and bring her to my little house in the woods and then I will hunt and bring her my dead animals. She will cook them and then I will bring her more.”

I put the car in park in the parking lot and turned around to look at Jake who appeared to have future plans for himself straight out of the 1800’s.

Jake smiled at me and then said, “No, I change my mind… I don’t want a girl. I’ll just have my own house in the woods and hunt.”

“I will help you shoot it,” Claire called back as she and her brothers walked into choir practice.

“Awesome,” I thought to myself, “Hopefully, I’m not raising the next unabomber and his sister.”


I always figured that as the kids got older this would just stop.

It was a phase, something that they would grow out of. Some day, I would learn not to dread this so much.

But after almost 5 years, that has yet to happen. Still to this day, at 5pm, something happens… all the children go bat shit crazy. At 4:59pm the children are calm, beautiful, loving, following the rules but as the clock changes to 5pm, the gloves come off and the gates of insane open.

It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t need to start making dinner at this time. We have always run our house on a finely tuned schedule. We had to when the triplets were young or we would have not survived and as the years went by, we just stayed with it. We can be flexible when needed but living by a schedule is just what we know.

When the 5pm hour hit when the kids were younger, to keep the out from the kitchen, I got creative. Setting up barricades and road blocks to try and keep them out so I could work and not trip over a baby spilling hot whatever I was cooking on them.

But in truth, the barricades only pissed off the already angry and disgruntled children more. They plowed right through like it was nothing more than a sand castle and took their anger and crying right to my feet.

As they grew, the children could be distracted more easily with TV and movies. I could set up a movie and if I planned dinner right, have it pretty much made in the 12.3 minutes it held their attention. You know, if I was lucky.

Recently though, the diversion tactics are not working. It’s like we are back to square one in this battle of wills. And even candy as a bribe for good behavior doesn’t work. In fact, it kinda makes it worse. It’s like they behave just long enough to get the candy, ingest it and then go freaking crazy any way.

Tuesday nights seem to be the worse for this. This is probably because this is a busy night for our household. Hayden has cub scouts that night and homework and dinner all need to be completed before the 6:30pm den meeting.

Again, the schedule comes in. After school, there is 30 minutes of TV time, then homework, dinner, and then Jeff and Hayden are off to scouts.

This schedule is all great and it works well but the only problem in that 5pm is included in there. Something always happens at 5pm. I feel it lurking like a big bad monster hiding in the shadows. I get a chill down my spine as the clock strikes 4:58pm. I know it’s coming. I try and ignore, carry on, but it doesn’t matter. Just like a zit, it will come to a head and explode.

“Ok, Hayden just a couple more words. Spell ‘awkward’,” I said.

Hayden wiggled on the bar stool back and forth. I glanced at the clock. I had to hurry. I walked to the fridge to get my ingredients to make dinner and then set a pot of the stove.

“Hayden don’t do that, you’re going to fall. Now spell ‘awkward’,” I instructed.

He stilled for a moment and tried to write just as Quinn popped up from the basement where he was supposed to be playing.

“Mom, there is cat threw up on the carpet,” he said.

“MOM!” Jake called from the basement, “Claire is climbing on the curtains.

I began to walk towards the steps when CRASH! Hayden knocked himself off his stool and sent the other one cascading down.

“Are you ok?” I asked turning around to help him.

“Mom, can I throw a football at the window?” Claire asked suddenly appearing before me.

“LaLaLa, Meow, Meow, LaLaLa, Meow,” Quinn sang, “I’m a dancing kitty.

The stove top hissed as the contents in the pan boiled over.

“ALRIGHT!” I yelled, running to deal with the pan and then added, “Hayden, get up and spell awkward. Quinn please be a dancing kitty downstairs and put a towel over the cat vomit. Claire, you may not climb on the curtains or throw footballs in the house, go read a book. And for the love of Pete, where is Jake and what is he doing?”

I took a breath as the kids scattered. Hayden put his pencil to paper and began to write. I cleaned up the stove top. Order seemed to be restored as I looked at the clock, 5:04pm. We were in it now.

“Done,” Hayden said.

“Ok, next spell ‘known’,” I said.

I turned from the sink back to the counter where Hayden was sitting just in time to see Jake walk through the kitchen, naked, carrying one of my old anatomy text books.

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

“Well, I gotta poop. This is gonna take a while,” Jake explained and continued walking without missing a beat.

I just watched him, trying to decided what to do as Quinn come out from behind the cupboard and screamed, “BOO!”

“Freaking Hell!” I screamed, startled.

“I’m a ninja. I scared you, mommy,” Quinn said with a smile.

“Mommy, there’s poop and my football in the toilet,” Claire called as she ran out from the bathroom Jake close on her heels.

Yeah, I really hate 5pm.

A Childhood Potty Game

I recently came to the conclusion that there is a secret childhood game that my children are desperately trying to win.

They are very sneaky about it so it’s taken me a few years to catch on but now I’m totally on to them. The only problem is that unless I want to deal with pee puddles on the floor in the middle of a store or in the van, I have to let the children play this game.

Well played, children. Well, played.

What is this game?

Well, it is a game called ‘put your pee in every single toilet you can expect the one at home’.  I haven’t quite figured out what they win if they accomplish this task, perhaps a big golden toilet trophy, but none the less my children are completely devoted to trying to win.

It never fails.  We leave the house and someone says, “Mommy, I’ve gotta go potty… badly.”

They add the badly so that I know they are serious and on the verge of peeing in their pants. Why this sudden urge to pee 5 minutes after we’ve left the house or as soon as we step foot in the store is one of the world’s greatest mysteries.

But like every mother who doesn’t want to do the walk of shame away from a puddle of pee in the store aisle or wrestle with a car-seat to put the lining back in after it’s been washed, we find a bathroom.

Because I have multiple children, I get the added joy of playing this game multiple times. Each time one child has to potty, I will ask… “Do you have to go potty? Do you have to go potty? Do you have to go potty?” And they will swear up and down that they don’t but give it about 10 minutes and it never fails that someone else suddenly has to pee so badly their eye balls are turning yellow.

I do have one saving grace in this whole process… Hayden. I feel that he is old enough to take one younger sibling to the bathroom, if I can see the bathroom from where I am standing. Sure, it makes me nervous because who knows what creepers are lurking in the bathroom but I can’t expect him to pee in the ladies room until he is 18.

Our Costco store is especially good for this scenario. From the check out, I can see the bathroom which is good because by now all small children have to pee and urgently.

As I scan and pay for the 5 gallon bucket of mayo, that was an impulse and that we really don’t need, as well as all my other items, Hayden takes one child to use the bathroom.  I keep the reamining children with me and then we make a b-line there as soon as I sign away their college fund because 5 gallons of mayo, tampons and other jumbo sized items aren’t cheap.

But this time was different. As the cashier handed me the receipt, Hayden comes walking back alone.

“Where is Jacob?” I said, my mind in a panic. “Where’s Jacob!?”

“In the bathroom still,” Hayden says causally.

I roll my eyes and I push my hip into the shopping cart forcing my body weight against it to start it moving. Getting a full Costco cart moving is a little like getting an elephant up and standing. You gotta use use those forceful hips.

“Why didn’t you stay with him?” I asked frazzled and freaking out, “You guys are buddies. We use the buddy system, you don’t leave your buddy.”

Hayden looked at me and calmly said, “Mom, he wouldn’t come. He was still going poop… I think.”

“Well then you wait for him,” I scolded.

By now we were nearing the bathroom and I watched the people exiting, smirk and smile. I also heard Jacob’s singing voice echo being carried through the store.

“Jacob!” I called as I sent Claire and Quinn into the woman’s side to finally let them pee, “Come out here!”

“Just a minute, mom!” Jacob yelled back as I heard the hand dryer end and then be clicked back on again.

“No, Jacob… NOW!” I yelled. “Your hands can air dry.”

I didn’t hear anything else from the bathroom but a man exited and I could tell he was trying so very hard not to laugh. Now my ‘mom spidey sense’ was on full alert… something was up.

“Jacob! YOU COME OUT HERE RIGHT NOW!” I hissed through gritted teeth.

The dryer stopped and soon Jacob rounded the corner, waddling with his pants around his ankles, bare-assing the whole store.

I stood there speechless.

“W-w-wa” I tried to begin, “W-what in the world are you doing?” I finished when I could finally get words to stumble out.

“I pooped so I was washing and drying my butt,” Jacob said like this was the most normal thing on the planet.

I shook my head and crouched down to pull up his soaking wet pants, “Toilet paper, that’s what you use to clean your butt…. like at home. Toilet paper, Jacob. Toilet paper.”

That’s it. I declare this ‘put your pee (or poop) in every single toilet you can expect the one at home’ game…




This ‘facepalm’ moment is part of Writer’s Workshop.

The Walk of Shame

“Ok,” I said turning the van off and swinging around in my seat, “I need you guys to listen to me for a minute.”

There was a collective sign and the kids shuffled back into their seats.

“We are going to go into this church. We have never been here before so you guys are going to have to sit with me the whole service. I am going to need your best ever behavior. Can you please be good?” I pleaded with the kids and then added, “If you can, I’ll take you out for lunch,” to sweeten the deal.

The kids nodded as I spoke but then began jumping up and down going crazy when I added the part about going out for lunch.

I took a deep breath and sighed. This was going to be an interesting morning. If whole thing could go very, very well or it could completely blow up in my face.

It was a beautiful Sunday morning for a baptism. We were visiting the church of my sister and brother in law. They were dedicating their new daughter. On our way to the service, I had dropped Jeff off at the airport. He going on a business trip which left me the solo parent for our four kids.

I felt the panic rise in my chest as we walked in the front doors but I pushed it down. No sense getting worked up or giving the kids negative energy to feed off of. I didn’t want any things but rainbows and unicorns to come out of me.

The church was gorgeous, inside and out. The sanctuary itself was full of beautiful sculptures and stain-glass windows. As we sat down, I pointed out different things to Hayden that I thought he might like looking at.

“Mommy, can I have coloring book?” Claire asked.

“And I want my Super Hero book,” Jake echoed.

We hadn’t been sitting for like 10 seconds and they were already asking for the ‘big guns’. At first I wanted to tell them to wait but what else did I pack my bag for then to entertain them? So as the music to begin the service started, I unzipped the activity bag and handed out markers, pencils and drawing books.

Each child around me settled into coloring and drawing, even Jake… the kid with the most ants in his pants who can’t sit still to save his life, was actually sitting still.

I smiled and felt my heart swell with pride at my children. I let out a sigh of relief and relaxed… just a little bit.

“Mommy,” Jake whispered at me breaking my relaxing exhale, “I have to go potty.”

“Can you wait?” I whispered back.

Jake grabbed his butt, front and back, and looked at me like I had three heads, “No!”

I sighed.

“Hayden,” I said, “You be in charge and make sure everyone sits here quietly, I am going to take Jake to the bathroom.”

Thankfully, we were sitting in row all by ourselves. Unfortunately, it was a row near the front of the church. I had picked it, you know, so that the kids would be able to see the baptism. I did not however think about the walk of shame down the center isle that would occur when leaving in the middle of the service.

I walked Jake out, found a bathroom and we took care of his unhappy intestines. We then walked back into the sanctuary, settled into our seats as the service continued. I again felt my heart swell with pride as I watched my children sit quietly and color.

The baptism took place and the kids excitedly watched their baby cousin, asking a million questions which I tried to answer in my best whisper, throwing in a few “Shhhhs” when needed.

“Mommy,” Claire said.

“Shhh… whisper,” I reminded

“Mommy, I gotta go potty,” she told me.

“Me too, Mommy. I gotta go too,” Quinn added.

“Of course you do,” I said hanging my head down because I wasn’t looking forward to repeating the walk of shame to the back of church and this time with two kids.

Since they were still sitting down and not doing the ‘I gotta take a big ‘ole poop’ dance that Jake had been, I decided to press my luck… “Can you wait?”

They both looked at me, seemingly doing a bladder check and then nodded.

I looked at the order of service as the preacher took the pulpit. It appeared that he was going to start the sermon. I said a silent prayer that he would talk fast for I knew, we were on borrowed time.

They kids seemed to settle as the preacher spoke. I tried to listen but it could see Claire and Quinn get more and more fidgety in their seats.

“Mommy, I gotta go potty,” Claire said again.

“Can you wait?” I asked again.

She looked at me like I was crazy but nodded yes and I willed the man to speak faster.

“MOMMY!” Quinn said rather loudly, ” I can’t hold… it!”

It was then as he began the second part of his statement, ‘hold it’ that I let out a rather loud “Shhhh!” at the exact moment the preacher fell silent so the SHHHHH…. IT or ‘SHIT’ rang through the sanctuary.

I heard gasps, giggles and snickers around me. I tried to sink lower in my seat wishing for the ground to open up and swallow me as the preacher once again continued.

“Mommy!” Claire hissed at me while Quinn pleaded at me with his eyes.

I then knew there was no more waiting and decided that walk of shame down the middle of the church maybe wasn’t so bad after all.