Pooped Out...literally

It seems like there is always a story that lives on in a family, and whoever the event happened to will never escape it. Poor Isabella. This will be our story...

It all started on Saturday night. Joe, Izzie and I left the Norred house after a fun night playing. Joe carried Izzie to the car and put her in. I climbed in the back seat too, because lets face it, Joe is such a slow poke at anything that involves Izzie. I buckled her in and climbed in the front seat. It is only about a 10 minute drive back to our house, but once we were only about 2 minutes from home, we hear Izzie in the back seat. It sounds like she is kind of chocking. She coughs and makes some weird sounds, so I get on my knees and turn on the backseat light. I stick my finger in her mouth and can't find anything. I know that she didn't have anything back there with her that she could chock on so we find this strange. But she seems totally fine seconds after she is coughing.

We park in the driveway, and I get her out of the car. Halfway into the garage, and once in the light, I notice that one of her very precious James Avery earrings that Grammy and Papi got her for Christmas is missing. You know the ones: little flowers with a little pearl in the middle. Hum. I think I would have noticed if it was missing when I put her in the car. I ask Joe to put her in her jamies while I go and have a look in the car. Surely, I'd find it and all will be well. But it wasn't there. I call Lisa and ask her to look at her house.

I put Isabella to bed and go out to search for the earring again. Same result. Surely, Izzie couldn't have...No. It will show up soon. With a heavy heart, I go to bed. Lisa calls in the morning, and she hasn't found it either. Apparently I had the whole Norred family on their hands and knees looking for the darned thing. Well, maybe Izzie...No, still can't except that possibility yet.

Joe can tell how upset I am about all of this, so before he heads to school to study, he gives the car a once over, but with no luck. Great. That's it. She must have swallowed the freakin thing. My poor baby.

Actually I'm not sure for whom I feel worse: Isabella for having to pass the thing, or myself for having to sift through her poop and find it. Well, three poopy diapers and one and a half days later, the darn thing shows up. About 10 minutes after the poopy diaper with the treasure in it, she poops again and Joe says, "Maybe that's the backing." I told him screw the backing, those things are cheap. My days sifting through poop are over. At least I hope they are.