I WONDER ...

I often wonder if I'd ever have realized I needed to heal if I hadn't had kids. 

Motherhood has a way of holding up a mirror to our deepest wounds, reflecting back the parts of us we kept hidden.

My children didn't create my triggers, but they brought them to the surface. Without them, I might never have faced those shadows. 

The showed me where I needed to grow and gave me the strength to break the cycle. 

(I did not write this. Taken from Instagram)

Wednesday Wee-Wind

I wrote this on Facebook in February of 2021 ... what happened was a conversation that changed my life. Brooks Gray suggested I buy a bigger washer and dryer. I did. It was truly one of the best decisions I ever made. Laundry got WAY better with the bigger machine. There's still a lot of it, but it IS better. 

Also, to this day my kids ALL still do their laundry. Even the Pomegranate (although she has trouble getting her clothes out of the washer so she has to sort of lay on the machine to do it.) But I don't care. It is SO helpful to have them doing their own. I strongly suggest it for all families. It eliminates a lot of sorting and loss as well.

Wendi’s Laundry Musings:

 

I estimate that only 47% of clothes that end up in our washer are truly dirty.

 

We have 8 people that use our washer. I decided to keep track of how many loads of laundry we do a week. We have a ten-year-old-tiny-washer. We did 32 loads last week. That’s 4.5 loads of laundry a day.

 

Now I’m not that good at math. And 47% is a completely made-up number. Let me make it 50% just to make the math easier.

 

If we could fix this problem, I’d have to do 16 loads of laundry a week. That’s 2.2 a day. That feels like a vacation.

 

Today I found five items of clothing in the girls dirty clothes hamper I have never seen them wear. One was a crocheted white sweater. How is THAT dirty?

 

We live on a farm. There is so much mud and dirt and things that have to be washed. Couldn’t we all agree that a crocheted white sweater could be spared?!

 

So in order to prevent this dumping of not-even-close-to-dirty-clothes from occurring, I must teach my children what is dirty or not.

 

I’ve done that. Vehemently. Often. Sometimes in a very loud voice. Sometimes patiently. But my temper is often battling up inside me.

 

And they keep putting clothes that aren’t in need of washing in the laundry.

 

Usually this happens when I ask them to clean their room. “Get everything off the floor” translates into “Put it all into the dirty clothes basket.”

 

New Plan.

 

I thought it would resonate deeper if they have to do their own laundry. So they do. The boys do their laundry. The girls do their laundry.

 

But they don’t care. So what if they have to wash double the clothes? That increase in workload doesn’t really translate. Kids are about immediate gratification. What matters is that their room is cleaned quickly . 

They can worry about the extra laundry and moan and groan about that later.

 

My only other option is to monitor what they put in the laundry basket. How would this be possible? 

 

There are like 97 people in this house and 1 of me. (I’m known to exaggerate slightly.) But honestly? I can’t be going upstairs every clothing change to determine whether they made a good choice ...

 

I’m an athlete. I’m a problem solver. I’m competitive. But I’d rather be on the free throw line with a shot to win the game then have to try and figure out how to stop clean clothes from ending up in the laundry 

basket.

 

In truth? I’ve decided. There is only way to solve these problems. Not have children. Or wait until they leave the house.

 

Little rugrats.

 

Good thing they are cute.

A great reminder

This is what I want. 

But most days I feel like I am so far from this. 

Parenting can be so hard. 

Homeschooling can be so hard. 

I find I lose my cool more than not. 

I want so badly to be my Grama Gert … 

A woman who truly lived Jesus. 

Puppies and teenagers

Isaac doesn't like pictures. Avoids the camera. And reserves his smiles for when he truly means (or you crack a joke right before you take the picture.) He isn't really a farm kid. Okay, he is NOT a farm kid. He has no desire for it. But he really enjoys the puppies. And he likes earning money. So for those reasons, the farm is a good place for him. He tells me to not expect him to live rural as he grows older. His heart wants the city ... but we will see. I have five more years to talk him into staying with me forever. 

Yesterday before bed, I started looking through some old pictures that popped up on my Facebook timeline. Like this one:

And I started crying. The tears just started running down my face. What an incredible gift I have been given. To think I'd have no children. To now have four. Why can't I appreciate each moment? Why do I get overwhelmed? What an incredible joy to get to be the Mama to these four humans. 

I am humbled ...

Pants and the uncool Mom

A truth: I never take my kids to the store to buy clothes.

Like: never.

Okay, so it can't be never if we have gone. But I've decided. We all have things we choose to spend money on.

We eat organic food.

But we wear nearly all hand-me-down clothes.

In fact, two years ago we were in WalMart one day looking at clothes and I wanted one of my kids to try something on, and they looked at me like how do I do that? 

I informed them there was a dressing room. And they informed me they hadn't ever used one of those?

Man. I missed that Mothering-thing.

(Although I recently took a friend's teenager out and she informed me she had never purchased a single thing out of a vending machine! That seems like a Mom fail too, don't you think?)

However, there comes a point that you need something to wear and you don't have it in your Kotysnki/Kitsteiner Kmart stash. Sidge needs khakis for his piano recital. He doesn't have any. In fact, Sidge really has no pants because, gosh darn it, the kid is growing hourly.

(I mean seriously! Hourly! I turn around and the jean he put on for church are too small when we drive home. It's that fast.)

(We think Sidge may end up about 6'5-6'7" so I think this is only the beginning.)

Any-who ... I'm not really sure what you do with a teenage boy after he leaves 16 boys clothes behind? We went over to the men's, but they start at like 32/32. The kid needs a 32 length. But he needs about a 26 waist. 

I couldn't find those anywhere. 

Back on track ... I have always thought I'm a pretty cool Mama. That I will not be one of those uncool Mamas. But I've come to discover that it's sort of inevitable. Impossible. Moms are moms. And there comes a point that they just aren't cool. 

John looks at me often and just says: Wendi! You are doing that Mom-thing. I don't mean to. It's just in me somewhere.  

Man. It's really hard. My girls still like me and think I'm cool. But all-of-a-sudden, my boys don't want me to acknowledge them in public. Kisses are NOT cool. (I have, however, told them that in private, I will give them a kiss on the cheek now and then. It's my payment for childbirth/motherdom.)

So Sidge is trying on pants. He doesn't want me in the dressing room with him. But he doesn't want me to be talking about the pants out in public. So I'm trying to see if the pants fit and he's furious at me for embarrassing me. 

When I got home and told the story to JB, he flashed back to the amazing show The Wonder Years -- one of my Dad's favorites (and mine too!) John remembered a clip and we found it on Youtube. Here it is! Enjoy!

Articles for my daughter

I've decided to start compiling a post that has articles and photos and quotes that I think I would one day want my daughters to read -- pieces that I believe will make them into better women. Here they begin.

• The One Life Dream That Makes a Girl Blush
• Ten Truths for the Teenage Girl -- Because it Matters Who You are Becoming
• 10 things Your Mom Never Told You
• Crazy hot sex
• Dear Girls, Life is Too Short for Crappy Friends
• 14 Ways Growing Up With Brothers Makes You a Stronger Woman
• Dove's New Ad Urging Women to Feel Beautiful
• Ladies, A Christian Boy vs. A Godly Man
• Allie's Rules for High School

And for Moms about parenting daughters:

• 7 Books for your Tween Girl's Journey to Womanhood (More for moms!)
• What Every Daughter Desires to Hear from her Mom (More for moms!)

 

Things I learned today about being a Mama

 

I have now been a Mama since May of 2008. However, I still find that each day brings new things to the forefront of my Mama experiences:

• Being a Mama is like riding a bike. You don't really forget how it is done. I won't ever have a baby again. This I know. But with little Theo joining our homeschool crew, sometimes you gotta give a Mama a break. Here I am, pictured above, editing for a newsletter I still freelance for while doing the baby-wearing thing. I still got this. 

• Children will come up with new things EVERY SINGLE DAY that will SHOCK parents ... today I walked outside to find my two daughters shocking me. They had tied sweaters to the big tall swing set we have (THIS ONE!) and were holding onto the sleeves and sliding down the thing. 

• Kids will be shocked that you tell them something that is obviously unsafe is unsafe. "Wait. Mom. You mean we can't do that ever again?!"

• If you pass a huge DUALLY truck (google that if you don't know what it is) on a very small country road and you are driving a rather large vehicle yourself, you might find that you both hit something. They hit a mailbox. We hit a culvert in a ditch. 

• Culverts can shred your tire.

• AAA is really cool when you need it. Like super cool. 

• Getting a flat tire with SIX children in your car with you ... is less than ideal. 

• It's okay to pat yourself on the back for something you would never have imagined you'd be proud of. Something like "Okay, we have to get out of the car and walk down the road because our tire blew out. Does everyone have their shoes?" And when you realize you successfully have 12 shoes in the car (14 counting your own), you are proud. And you celebrate with something delicious to eat later ... just because. 

• Even if you think you are a really tough parent, kids will push every single boundary you give them to the max. If you have four kids, the max will be pushed x 4. 

• Even a kid who doesn't seem like a boundary-pusher, will push you. They will choose this most appropriately on a day that you already feel like everything you have done has gone wrong.

• Even if you think you are not crazy, kids will convince you that you are crazy, and you will find yourself thinking: "Am I imagining this? I'm not out of my ever-living-mind, am I?"

• Each of your children will challenge you in completely different ways.

• Each of your children will change the way they challenge you each day to keep you on your toes.

• Your children will know when you have a headache or when Dad won't be home on time to challenge you even more.

• When challenged in the ways mentioned above, you will find yourself saying: "Why am I homeschooling? I mean, I could just send them to school (on a normal year) and get lots of cool things done everyday. Like reading and gardening and writing and eating chocolate."

Homesteading Mama: When Mama Tells Some Lies

There's been this thing going around social media where Mama secretly record their family member's reaction to their "lies" about their life. I decided to try it with my Kids. 

Honestly: this is an opportunity to laugh at myself because I am not perfect. I've mostly given up soda. I hate doing bedtime. I love Oreos. All truth. 

Homeschooling Mama Woes

Bohemian Waxwing

One of my biggest frustrations as a homeschooling Mama is the abundance of questions I receive. Because my kiddos don't go to school for seven hours a day and give all of their questions to another adult, I get their questions. I get all the questions. All day long. Day after day. 

And because I am a glutton for punishment, I've added my cousin's kids too. So there are nine kids to ask questions instead of four. 

(Okay, to be fair, this arrangement brings Aunt Hannah with them which means we are dividing up the questions. But she's mostly with the little kids who ask more annoying but easier questions. I'm with the older kids who ask questions that I sometimes genuinely don't know the answer to or have to look up somewhere.)

Now questions are one thing. But questions at inopportune times is another thing altogether. For example, I can be out with my kiddos in the living room for an hour with no questions. Then I go into use the bathroom, and I hear a knock at the door. Then a voice will say, "Can you explain to me why there was no money in the banks during The Great Depression?"

And I say: "Can I discuss this with you as soon as I am done in the bathroom?"

And sometimes that makes them go away. But sometimes they will try to just stand there and wait for me. Or sometimes they will say just a smattering of seconds later, "Hey Mom. Are you done yet?" Or even better. Sometimes when they leave, another kid comes in to take their place. 

It's like they are taking turns keeping me occupied or something.

So .... back on track here. 

I've been working with the kiddos on not asking questions that are poorly timed.

Today, and I kid you not, I was moving a safe. Not a huge safe but a safe that required me to put my back into it. In the middle of trying to relocate the safe, I hear a voice behind me saying: "What does B-o-h-e-m-i-a-n spell Mama?"

I didn't answer because I was occupied. Said child waited three seconds and started spelling it again. 

I stopped my safe moving and stood up and said, "Do you think this is a good time for a spelling question?"

And I kid you not, the child looked at me with an expression that said, "It seems pretty good to me."

(Child didn't say that outloud thank goodness.)

Oh and Bohemian was important because we were studying birds. Check out the bird at the top to find the culprit behind the question.

And for a good laugh, check out one of my very favorite video clips ever by comedian Jim Gaffigan. (It's clean and so fun!)

Parenting a Pomegranate

Motherhood is so hard. And wonderful. And exhausting. And exhilarating. And overwhelming. And fabulous. And scary. It's chocked full of emotions. Good and bad. No one can understand it until you are in it. 

This chick. 

My little dinosaur. 

Our sweetie-pie pomegranate. 

She's sugar and spiey in one incredible little dynamo package. 

And despite the drama that I feel unfolds in a family each and every day, when you ask Hannah what makes her sad, she will often say: "Nothing makes me sad."

She's just a little kid loving life, waking up each morning with nothing on her agenda but playing and being ... young. She's dressing up like a dinosaur and asking for snuggles and expressing herself fiercely and poignantly. 

I often think of this little girl and the fact that without our infertility journey, we wouldn't have her.

She was worth every single moment of procedures and doctors and medicine.

I love you Hannah Joy. Thank you for the JOY you've brought to our home. It just wouldn't be the same without your little self in our lives,

I promised myself I would NEVER do this ...

It's Fall Break here in East Tennessee -- which means ballet classes are a bit more empty than usual. 

Tonight, the ballet class that Abigail and her cousin Ana takes only had ten girls. Because there was more room, Lori Ann decided to do floor barre with the girls instead of their normal barre time. 

They got in three lines and there was a whole bunch of room in the back of the studio. So she looks over at Erin and Jessica and I -- ballet moms who enjoy chillin' together and just watching our girls dance sitting over in the cheering section -- and asked us if we wanted to jump in.

I have always said I would NEVER do anything resembling ballet. I mean, a girl has to have standards you know? But this was really just a gigantic stretching hour so I decided I could slide into the back row and participate. Jessica and Erin begrudgingly went with me. 

Here was Abigail's face when she saw what I was doing. (I'm thinking she wasn't thrilled with the idea?!)

And here's a picture of me wondering what the heck I am doing:

Erin snapped a picture of me doing what was supposed to be a big ol' center split. (Yeah ... right!)

While I am trying to do a split, here's my view of girls actually doing them:

And I snapped a picture back of Erin doing this move:

I didn't get a picture of Jessica, which was a shame because she was actually pretty good (especially considering she was doing it in her work clothes!)

I did, however, notice how nice of a ceiling they have at the studio while my athletic socks were sort-of-pointing towards it:

Abigail made the following notes following my first attempt at ballet"

• "Ms. Jessica was pretty good. You, mom, were not."
• I asked her if she was embarrassed of me and she said, "I was a little, yes."
• She did say to me: "Could you show me how to do sit-ups sometime Mama? That was the one move you did that you knew how to do better than me." YAY -- this jock still has something left in her.
• When discussing in the car on the way home whether Karate was harder than Ballet, Abigail said: "Mommy can't really judge since she did ballet tonight but didn't do it very well."

So there you have it. I don't mind doing me some stretching but you won't see this 6'3" girl up on her toes anytime soon,

God Believes You Are a Capable Mother

Flashback: I’m twenty-one and in my first semester of teaching high school English. I show my mentor teacher my senior English roster, and she scrunches up her nose and takes a deep breath before telling me this is the most incomprehensible combination of students she’s ever seen. “If I had to pick twenty of the most difficult seniors from the two hundred or so we have at this school,” she said, “you’d have them all in this one room.”

Lovely.

These students were single moms and dads, drug addicts, criminals, and drop-outs who were returning to give education one more chance, and I was only a year or two older than many of them. But I came up with a plan:

To read the rest of my post, please jump over to THE GLORIOUS TABLE. 

25 Things to remember when I feel like a failure as a parent

"A good mom has bad days & great days & normal days & overwhelming days & perfect days & trying days & supermom days & just being a mom days & a whole lot of love & real & crazy motherhood days." 

What I really looked like this morning

vs. what I wish in my head I looked like this morning

Tuesday is always a hard day for me. It's jam-packed with activities (gymnastics, speech, three different ballets, and karate.) John and I have spoken often about trying to change how heavy this day is, but we simply have not been able to alleviate the load. 

John is working a lot. So it's just me. And so I'm sitting here, way past my bedtime, feeling sorry for myself. Feeling like I've failed my kids today. My husband today. Myself today.

My truth:

• I lost my cool once.
• I lost my cool twice.
• I lost my cool three times.
• I maybe lost it a fourth time.
• We had two woofers here to help on the farm. They didn't need me. All I had to do was raise the children today.
• I was tired.
• I was crabby.
• I ate badly.
• I failed to solve an argument between my boys.
• I didn't feed my kids great today.
• I had a kid get scratched and have an allergic reaction to a cat.
• I had a kid drop their entire plate of spaghetti on the floor. 
• I have a kid crying as I write this because they miss Dad, and I am not able to make them feel better.
• I dropped balls.

I could go on. But I'll stop. I realized, as I was sitting here, that dwelling on me stinking at this job isn't going to help. 

So I decided to switch it around and think about some of the FACTS of motherhood and today.

If you are feeling like me, today, or any other day in the future ... if you are feeling like you just stink at being a mom (or a dad!), here are some things for me (and YOU!) to remember:

1. That I feel worse when I am tired (or stressed!)
2. That I show up. EVERY. DAY. (Not all employees do that!)
3. That it is the sum of days (not just today!) that will define my children.
4. That my children see all of me. The bad AND the good.
5. That love goes a long way. I love them. I love them. And I love them some more.
6. That if I care about being a screw-up, then I actually care.
7. That my God is a God of grace.
8. That I can make changes. 
9. That tomorrow can be different.
10. That tomorrow can be better.
11. That talking realistically about parenthood and how wonderfully hard it is, allows us all to feel less alone in the challenges.
12. That I am not necessarily to blame for my kids' bad attitudes or behavior.  
13. That my kids are alive today. 
14. That my kids did not get permanently injured today. 
15. That my kids ate enough food and drank enough water to live today. 
16. That this job is hard.
17. That I must acknowledge all I did do today.
18. That the perfect mom I see in my mind doesn't exist.
19. That being involved in my kids' lives means a lot.
20. That I should think on what is true.
21. That I should pray.
22. That I am dearly loved.
23. That I am gifted by God for this job.
24. That I need to give myself permission to take a time-out (or a bubble bath!)
25. That I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

The gifts of our children

"Every child is a different kind of flower. All together they make this world a beautiful garden." 

Hannah Joy Pomegranate

Hannah is now reading. My parents sent her a card so she could read it all by herself. She was so proud! It was actually one of the first things she said to me when she started reading: "If someone sends something in the mail to me, I can read it by myself!" Hannah is still little and I can't tell exactly where God is taking her, but my prayer is that she uses her zest and personality and love of life to make others feel the love of Jesus everyday. 

Abigail Grace

Abigail is going to be competing in ballet this year -- her teacher has never let a seven-year-old do it before so we are super proud of her. She's doing a solo to Jamie Grace's Beautiful Day and will also be competing in a trio where she will be the evil villain Poison Ivy. We simply can't help but smile when we watch her body work so well for her. We really believe that her gift lies in MOVEMENT and we look forward to watching the Lord lead her to bring honor to him through her athleticism, strength, and like her middle name ... GRACE.

Elijah Luke (aka "Sidge")

Sidge is our "passionate" child. He is like his mom in that things are either AMAZING or HORRIBLE. He loves nature and animals and lately, he's become obsessed with obstacle courses. His body is getting sooooo strong as he gets better and better at pushing himself to new limits. He is going to be a big man, and we pray this his heart is as strong as his body.

Isaac John

 To see this young man speak music as a first language is simply something I can't even put into words. I could listen to him play all day long. We are continually asking the Lord to give him a selfless heart that wants to bring joy to others through his gifts -- especially his gift of music.

The Fashion Designer Lives On

This kid! I just never feel like this Blog does who she is justice. My cousin's family passed down a few items of clothing. This is always a big deal to Hannah. It's like Christmas. Only better. 

One of these items was a Christmas pajama dress? That's what I think it is. I'm honestly not sure. 

First, Hannah asked if her Daddy could cut holes in the sleeves since they were a little long so she could wear them like gloves.

He obliged.

But then she decided that instead of it being "long" she wanted it to be short like a shirt.

I told her that you can't just go around cutting dresses to make shirts. (Even my non-sewing self knows this won't work.) Thinking I would dissuade her from the idea I said: "If you wanted to do that, we'd have to take it to Ms. Faye, and pay her to make you a shirt."

"How much would it cost?" Hannah asked.

"At least five dollars," I said, knowing that Ms. Faye always undercharges us for her amazing seamstress work. 

"Okay," Hannah said. "I got five dollars from the tooth fairy!" 

(The tooth fairy always give a $5 bill for the very first tooth a kid loses. After that it drops to $1. Unless you have to get a tooth pulled. Then she leaves $2. Although, none of my kids believe in the tooth fairy anyways.)

"You want to use all your tooth fairy money to get this dress made into a shirt? Instead of a toy?" I'm not sure if that's a good idea. We will have to talk to Daddy."

She did. She ran out of the room to find him and tell him her plan. I couldn't believe she really wanted to spend money to see one of her "fashion visions" come true.

I'm more convinced than ever that one of the greatest gifts I can give this child ...

is a sewing machine.

(And good lessons. From someone that is not me.)

 

 

The Story of the Blue Breathing Bag

"Things are never lost to you; you are lost to them. If ever in need of a Thing that has lost you, simply stop hiding from it." Shannon Hale

Just sit right back

And you'll hear a tale

A tale of a fateful trip

That meant a little blue ol' bag was lost

And made this Mama flip.

Everywhere we go, and I mean everywhere, Isaac carries this blue bag: 

We call it is his "breathing bag." It has Epi-pens and his inhaler and Benadryl and other important medicines in case of an allergic or asthmatic attack. 

(My husband has hammered this home to me. As a physician and the allergist on our base in the Azores, he reminds me of the facts often: Nearly everyone who dies from an allergic reaction knew they had an allergy, had medicine, but didn't have it with them.) 

Got it.

Okay so back to the aforementioned blue bag.

Today was a long day for us. It started with piano lessons at our house. These are usually on Thursday, but had to be switched to Tuesday due to a conflict for our teacher.

During piano lessons, I feverishly had the kids get everything ready for our killer day. Tuesday includes:

• Gymnastics (all 4 kids + Ana the cousin)
• Speech (2 kids)
• Ballet class (Hannah with Abigail helping)
• Karate (2 boys + Gabe the cousin)
• Ballet class (Abigail)

I was so on-the-ball this morning that I had all four of my kiddos load up all their stuff into our SUV an hour before we left. I wanted to make sure we had everything. I have been unprepared for these Tuesdays and they kick my tale. I was going to rock this Tuesday!

Water bottles? Check.

Changes of clothes? Check.

Ballet clothes? Check.

Ballet bag? Check.

Speech items? Check.

Karate "costume"? Check.

You get the idea.

And blue breathing bag? 

Big check!

Isaac assured me his bag was in the car. When we loaded up our vehicle at 11:30am I asked again. I do this every time we load up. Isaac always eye-balls the blue bag and tells me it is definitely there.

So imagine my surprise, ten minutes into gymnastics when he says: "Mom, I need my inhaler."

I say: "Let's go and get it out of the Expedition."

And he can't find it!

I look, and I can't find it!

What in the world ...

My friend Karen is there. She has albuterol so I don't fret. I carry an extra epic-pen in my backpack so we are good to go. 

Isaac does gymnastics with his siblings. 

We load up and head to Speech. After Speech, we always have an hour to kill. As usual, we go to the library. While checking out books at the library, I call JB and ask him to please grab the left-behind blue breathing bag. John is headed into work, and he can drop it off at Karate so we have it there.

John can't find the bag at the house.

Sidge, standing next to me for this conversation on the phone says: "I brought the bag into gymnastics!"

Wait!

What?!

I tell my husband this. Husband says he will drive by gymnastics and retrieve it. He drives in and parks and goes inside. But after many minutes searching he ascertains ... there is no bag at gymnastics.

Egads.

So we go to Karate. I don't have albuterol which makes me nervous, but what are the chances Isaac will need it?

High I guess.

The boys take Karate in a downstairs studio at the same time Abigail takes one of her ballet classes upstairs. 

Isaac come upstairs and says he needs his inhaler.

Egads again. 

So I decide to check my backpack. Mom-of-the-year (I gotta brag whenever a rare opportunity comes up) had stashed an extra albuterol in her bag too! So I give him that, and he returns to Karate.

Bag is still missing. It's not at home. It's not in vehicle. It's not at gymnastics. 

But Isaac still claims it was in the SUV. Sidge claims he brought it into gymnastics. 

Egads. Egads. Egads.

So then we climb in to head home. We load up with my four kids and cousin Gabe, and cousin Gabe reaches down onto the floor to grab something and says: "I found the bag!"

(Shall I say Egads?)

We backtrack and discuss and together we realize that ...

1. Isaac did indeed put blue bag in the car.
2. Sidge did indeed bring blue bag into gymnastics without telling anyone.
3. Sidge then brought the blue bag OUT of gymnastics without remembering he did so.
4. Sidge put blue bag under the seat where no one could see it. 

So, the bag was with us the entire stinkin' day while we thought it was missing the entire stinkin' day. 

Egads,