GRASS-STAINS!

Grass-stains... they are my current nemesis! I sheepishly will admit to you that I completely lost it over grass stains this week. I've been having an ongoing brouhaha with the youngest of my brood over the gross amount of clothing that he has ruined with his carefree attitude toward grass. The pile of church/school clothing is shrinking at an alarming rate as the play clothes pile grows before my eyes! Now before I detail my meltdown for you, I must inform you that it came on the heels of a particularly destructive week. The offending boy had already come home sporting a permanent ink-stain on the belly of one brand-spankin' new t-shirt, a large rip in the belly of another new shirt (the belly does seem to be a problem area!) and a plethora of grease-stains (presumably from the oh-so-tasty cafeteria salisbury steak) again all over the belly of a new shirt.
I am devoted to "Shout" and apply it liberally to my laundry (I buy in bulk!) but suffice it to say, my stain-removing friend didn't touch these... even with my last line of defense, an old toothbrush and a great deal of elbow grease! So bear in mind that these offenses were fresh on my mind as I prepared to iron Christian's new jeans (previously worn once!) and soon discovered a monstrous grass-stain covering the whole left knee and a good deal of the right as well. I had somehow missed them during the laundering process, but my wealth of experience told me that it wouldn't have mattered, that nothing short of a sandblaster would have removed stains of this magnitude. This is when my lecture began... you might wonder what one could say about responsible grass behavior for 20 minutes, but I picked up steam midway through when I noticed the grass-stain/ink-stain combination on his undershirt. Short of football practice, I'm not sure I know how one gets a grass-stain on the shoulder of their undershirt, but as I live and breathe, there it was! So on my lecture rolled... you know the whole 'clothes don't grow on trees' and 'doesn't it bother you to look homeless?' spiel (by the way... it doesn't!) You know it's probably time to reign yourself in when your husband and two teenagers are trying not to laugh at your rant, but by golly, I had things that needed to be said. In reality, I planned to keep up with it until the guilty party acknowledged the error of his way and pledged to act more appropriately in grassy, inky and food laden areas, but alas, the bus came and with it the end of my informative and life-changing speech. Jeff later informed me that he too was the perpetrator of many a grass-stain as a callow youth so I fear I'm probably fighting a losing battle with genetics here!

I'm happy to report that Friday passed with nary a stain--grass, ink, or food! Who says a well-delivered diatribe never bears results!