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tornado, tornado warning,wornado sirens, tomatoes

tornados, tornadoes, tornado warning, tomatoesSo, as many of you have noticed, I have been very lucky this summer to partner with some wicked awesome brands and share some great products and even do a couple really amazing giveaways that I thought you’d all enjoy. I love doing that occasionally but at the same time, I want to apologize if it’s been too much consecutively so I really wanted to write a post that was for nothing but me…and you. God, I miss you guys a lot. Crazy effin summer is out of control, even by my standards.

Time to share a funny story, well; I guess that all depends on your perspective. Last week, we had a pretty crazy tornado warning. We live in the Midwest so we take this kind of shit pretty seriously. We don’t mess around with tornadoes or tomatoes as my 6-year-old calls them. You know that same crazy adorable kid who calls wiener dogs ..”CORN DOGS”. I will pause so you can laugh. Go ahead. I do every.single.time she says it. It’s so effing cute I cannot stand it. I never correct her and I never will. Never!

Anyways on that particular night, I had given the girls a melatonin (Don’t judge me! That day was even more cray-cray than that night) and they had just fallen asleep. My sister was in town with her toddler and he had just gone down and it was time for some girl time, gabbing and a good movie. Two of my brothers had come over so it was about to be a full on Cruz kid sleepover, minus two (yeah we are a really big family of Mexibillys).

Anyways, just as I kissed my corn dog kid on the forehead and tried to creep out of her room, the fucking Wizard of Oz warning sirens went off. My brother went into Alpha male mode (my husband was in Cali sending me weather reports and telling me to get the kids to the downstairs half-bath).

As I’m creeping out of the girl’s room, my brother is running up the stairs shouting drill sergeant style to get the kids and get to the first floor. I tried to shush him but it was too late. The kids were discombobulated, half awake and crying about the tomato headed for us. FUCK!!!!! My visibly irritated sister grabs her startled, crying toddler, I grab the 6-year-old screaming, “Tomato, Tomato!” in and out of consciousness and my brother grabbed the lanky 8-year-old who was 70 pounds of solid dead weight.

As we are all running down the stairs like we’re in a fucking war zone or some sort of nuclear war drill, headed for the half-bath to see just how many Mexibillys and their kids could fit into it, this here clumsy lady stepped, missed the 3 bottom steps and broke my fucking pinky toe. No worries, I didn’t drop the kid nor did she wake all the way up. But I learned the hard way how much damage over 200 pounds falling on one little pinky toe can do? A LOT!!! Ouch! Honestly, I am surprised it wasn’t crushed into dust under the weight of the two of us. Poor stupid pinky toe.

Moral of the story, the Tomato never touched down, I did the Tebow at the bottom of my stairs without dropping or waking a child to my brothers’ amusement (P.S. I fucking ROCK!), my toe looks like it has hypothermia and just might fall off and you can fit 4 full-sized, grown Mexibillies, 2 half-asleep children, a crying, pissed off toddler and one bulldog in heat in my half-bath.

How was your week?

P.S. Who’s going to BlogHer because I want to meet you!!!!

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