"The Poop, The Newt, and The Closet"

Okay, so C.S. Lewis I'm not. That's alright, I nevertheless must tell you about my own "The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe" adventure. "Wardrobe" being Macy Li's closet...

With 18 days left to shop and pack the world's-longest-packing-list before China, organize everything in my house that I know I won't be able to do for at least 5 more years, gather a million important papers, get her nursery ready, wash all these baby clothes in Dreft, and the list goes on and on.....I felt the urge last night to tackle "the closet." Not just any closet, but the one that had once been home to a little boy named Tater (Peyton, for those of you who don't know us). With a nickname like that, you can only imagine. Anyway, this closet had not even begun to be cleaned out from the many treasures he'd left behind when he moved on to a bigger room about two years ago.

So, overwhelmed, I'm standing there last night having no clue where to begin. I figure the floor is a good place to start since I really can't even get in there. Trash bags and storage boxes ready to be filled, I reluctantly begin. It ain't pretty. Amongst the football jerseys and ballcaps, I discover old "art." Well maybe not to just anybody, but to this mama, it's Picasso! So, it goes into the "save" box. Being threatened with bodily harm, so do the jerseys and caps. Then there are costumes...everything from a Tigger, to Cookie Monster, to Power Rangers, to Batman, to Daniel Boone, to Pirates, to Hippies, and you name it. Sweet memories flood over me and I begin to squall. Now, if you're a Southerner, you squall...and maybe bawl. I did both.

Amidst the squalling, I find cletes. Soccer cletes. Baseball cletes. Football cletes. Well, what's a boy-mom to do, but sniff 'em. I admit it, I actually like that stinky locker-room smell, for it brings back more memories of days gone by. Days of racing around looking for them before a practice or game, screaming my head off, racing through Brentwood with my boys in the back of the car putting on gear as fast as they could, and all the games...I wouldn't trade any of that for the world.

I keep digging.....and what to my wandering eyes did appear? The poop! We'd all been looking for that poop forever! It was fake, of course, but we all loved that poop! It had been the source of so many pranks and so much laughter. Many a guest, teacher, and friend had been terrorized by that poop. Now, this poop wasn't going in any trash bag or storage box. No way! This was a family treasure so it must be displayed on Tater's shelf, among all his trophies. Afterall, it was a trophy of it's own.

After a while, I felt I'd earned an honorary "Archeology Degree," for I'd unearthed quite a few historical relics....then came perhaps the most prized discovery of all: "Brett Favre!" Sadly, Brett Favre had escaped Tyler's prison many years ago. We'd searched the house up and down, and assumed he'd found his way to freedom. You see, Brett Favre was Tyler's newt. He was his friend. Oh yeah, Tyler thought that all God's creatures must come to take up residence in his room. Much to my chagrin, he'd capture various gross amphibians and reptiles, twist my arm into buying others, and they'd all come home to live with him. Being that he had no driver's license at age 10, I even used to go buy "live food" for them (I'll spare you the details because it was just wrong--SO wrong)!!! Anyway, there he was...'ol "Brett Favre" in all his glory....shriveled up, sorta freeze-dried in a way...on the bottom of the closet. Actually, he looked like one of those snacks you can buy on the streets of China (freeze-dried rooster claws and such...I'll take pictures when we're there and post for you to see). And yes, they eat 'em! I deliberated about what to do with him. No, I wasn't going to eat him! Should I put him on Tyler's shelf? Throw him in the trash? No, there was no way I could just throw away Brett Favre! So, like we used to do for all the hermit crabs, tree frogs, and such.....I had my own little private service for him right there in Macy Li's bathroom. After a short benediction, I flushed Brett to his final resting place.

Back to the closet...and then came the vomit....but surprisingly, not my own! No, this too was fake! Like the poop, we'd made many a memory with that fake vomit. Then came the fake snot. YES! I was making some real progress now! And then, all of a sudden, it hit me.... "What kind of a mom actually celebrates snot and such?!?! I mean, this is sick. I must be unqualified for this upcoming Assignment!!!!!!!!!!!! We can't bring a sweet innocent little baby girl home to this sickness. We'll warp her little mind. We don't do girls here. This place isn't even safe for her!" And another horrifying thought came.... "I'm gonna have to have the 'period' talk with her one day!" Flatulence? Expert. Periods? No way. I mean, we're in full-throttle testosterone mode here. We'd better find a good therapist, and quick!

Before I knew it, the closet had been emptied of the memories of its past....and filled with the hopes of its future...


"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11