Tragedy.

No to be too melodramatic, but it really is a tragedy.

I think we've lost the measuring stick that I transferred all of the growth measurements from the door jam in Cary on to.  I thought about it last night because I want to measure Kira on it since she's walking.  To show her one day how tiny she was when she started walking.  And I realized that I don't remember seeing it here at this house.

So you can imagine how well I slept.  We looked all over this morning and can't find it.  Mike thinks he remembers putting it in the Budget truck.  He thinks he put it between the wall of the truck and the wood slats that run along the wall.  Maybe it fell down to the floor and is still in the truck.

So we called Budget.  The truck is being rented by a commercial renter and has been out since July 19th.  They don't know when it will come back and said they couldn't contact the people.  Maybe we'll call the place where we turned the truck in to to make sure they didn't take out the stick (which, if it's where Mike thinks, is probably hard to see, so maybe it's still there).

We're waiting now.

I'm going down to Austin on Sunday maybe to pick Zach up, so maybe I'll knock on the door of the people who are living there now and ask if I can look in the garage.  Maybe it's there and not on the Budget truck.

But maybe we'll never see it again.  I had a good cry this morning at that thought.  I cried and cried over leaving that door jam in our house in Cary.  But the stick consoled me.  I was okay because I could bring that record of my little boys with me.  And now that I'm ready to start adding my little girl, it's gone.

So think lots of positive, miracle producing thoughts that my stick will return to me.  I hate the idea of going the rest of my life without being able to just stop and look at how big (or little) my boys were.