“Mommy I Help!”

Hello Friends! It has been too long. Much has been going on in my life so I took a break. Some good things and some very sad things. Today we will focus on the good.

Here is the short story:


We bought a house that needed some love!

With much love family and friends helped us fix it up.

We did so while Taylor worked full time and finished his master’s degree.

We did so with the two babies.

We did so with a toddler. And an infant.


And this is where the long story begins…

There are few things in this life more terrifying than a quiet house and a missing toddler. The second most terrifying thing would have to be having that silence pierced by the words “I help”.c4ddfceeaa0f810e3840dc3ab1687ae2

When this happens, it is as if times stands still. Horrifying images run through your head as you scurry to find out what has been destroyed.

When you are remodeling a house, the terror is doubled.

I was in the kitchen trying to hang a light. It was a wonderful day. My light fixture was so pretty. Holden had been playing with his cars in the living room. That is when I heard it.




Worried that maybe he had found the hammer again I walked to the edge of the stairs and yelled up at him.


I looked up the stairs and admired my brand new carpet. It had just been put in a week ago. It is soft and squishy. A beautiful grayish color.

There was no bouncing toddler playing on my carpet.

He had gone into stealth mode. Radio silence.

I heard nothing…

But I did smell something.

It was the faint smell of…


My immediate thoughts:

“For the love of all that is good in the world please God I beg you NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

I ran those stairs two at a time and burst into my bedroom.

There… in my Master Bathroom… where the carpet meets the tile… stood my little boy…

Holding the bleach sprayer we used to bleach the ground before we laid the carpet.

“I Help!” 

In shock and horror I looked down at my beautiful carpet. It was now spattered with pink and gray. I grabbed the bleach sprayer, threw it in the sink, grabbed a rag, and desperately tried to soak up the bleach.

It was no use.

I had tie dye carpet.

If it was possible for one’s head to burst from anger, mine would have.

I looked down at my little boy who was just smiling at me with his now bleach stained clothes, and I think I started to twitch trying to hold in all my anger.

“Nice pants, Satan.” Is all I could think while I surveyed the damage to the carpet and his cute outfit.

Most people’s reactions to this story have been, “Well it could have been worse…”

And to myself I think, “Ya, he could have sprayed that bleach all over the upstairs.”

These thoughts are always interrupted when they finish their sentence – “…he could have drank the bleach!”

“Oh ya… that was my first thought too… much worse…”

In the end, we all survived.

Nothing like having a child teach you that things are just things.

It’s just carpet. *twitch*







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