Surprise, surprise, surprise

This seems like it might be a short post (which is not evidenced by this lengthy intro quote to say that it's going to be shorter) 'cause it's been another full-to-the-brim day and I have a night with no grading on the docket.  So why spend it on here when I have 2 magazines calling mi nombre?  But it's been a while, and I have a "this can only happen when you have a couple of young kids" kind of a story that I've been saving for just the right moment. 

But first, I had a quick check-in about a spot on my collarbone that magically appeared sometime during the last fall/winter.  And then a few months later when that spot was still there and I read a magazine story about a woman who found out she had cancer after getting a mystery spot checked out, I put "call the dermatologist" at the top of my list.  I'm always good for a solid bout of worrying-spurring-me-to-action.  When your office visit lasts a grand total of 2 minutes because the doctor walks in, calmly shakes your hand, says "Yep, that's a mole" shakes your hand again, and leaves, then it's a good day.  A mole, my people...a mole.  I just paid $30 to have a kind, motherly sort of doctor woman tell me that yes, moles can still magically materialize when you're in your 30s.  As I was walking out and noticed that HGTV was still on in the lobby and noted that I did not have my children with me, I thought "Hmm...this isn't such a bad deal.  Watch 15 minutes of TV, have a pleasant conversation, read a few pages of your magazine.  If I were smart enough, I might figure out how to make this happen more often."  It was a pleasant way to spend 30 minutes this afternoon (at about $1/minute, mind you).

That's not really my "Seriously...?!?" story, though.  (How's that for some terrible hype?)  A couple of weeks ago, I left the girls and boy for the day to go visit with a college friend at her new house.  It meant that the boy and daughters were out the door before I was because they had cross country camp to go be present at and I had about 15 minutes to start a load of laundry and grab a bottle of water and a snack.  I was digging around in the Younger's laundry basket, and there was something weird happening there.  At the bottom of it, completely buried by clothing (i.e. WHO KNOWS HOW LONG THIS HAS BEEN HERE???) was a small blue bag, tied at the top.  It had something in it.  But if you don't know anything else as a parent, you know that you should not just go willy-nilly opening up tied bags in your kid's clothes basket with a good reason to do so. 

So I called the boy.

Me:  "What's in this blue bag?"
Boy:  "I have no idea.  Girls...what's in this blue bag?"
[pause]
Boy:  "They shrugged.  Oh, wait, [the Elder] says that they found something on the sidewalk in front of our house the other day."
Me:  "Oh, GROSS" (immediately recognizing it for what it is).

See, wise mother that I am, did not unwittingly open up a tied bag of dog poo that someone had (kindly) left for my children to find and graciously deposit as a gift to all in the bottom of the Younger's laundry basket.

WHY IN THE WORLD?  WHY?  IN?  THE?  WORLD?

Who would possibly think "Oh, hmm...tied up blue baggie with something in it.  I think that I'll take it inside about bury it where no one will find it underneath dirty clothes."

My kids are weird hoarders or something. 

(I think that this story will be one of those family stories that will be re-told for years to come.)