Thursday, July 16, 2009

Yesterday

Yesterday was a bad day. I don't know why.

It just was.

We were getting a new roof put on because ours had suffered hail damage back in April. It was really noisy. The roofers showed up at 6:25 a.m waking me and the whole household up. And probably the neighbors, too.

That was actually fine. I was expecting them to arrive early. I just thought I'd be up and about before they got there.

What I didn't expect was how terrified our dog Cooper would be. He's afraid of thunder, but I didn't expect him to be so terrified of 10 or so strange men banging hammers and buzzing saws 12 feet over his head. But he was.

Trembling. Whining. Pressing his 65-lb. hot, furry, panting dog-body against me at every turn.

Every time I went to the bathroom he would either follow me in or scratch at the door until I let him in and then squeeze himself between the toilet and the wall.

When I was writing, he would crawl under the desk and lay on top of my feet.

It was stressing me out. So finally, I loaded boys and dog into the car and we headed to the church playground at our church, where I will be damned if there wasn't a house backing up to the playground that was having a roof put on it.

We left there after a few minutes, hit a drive-thru, and then headed to another park where there was absolutely no shade.

It was our first visit. I went on the recommendation of a friend who told me it had a very nice dog park as well as a cool playground with a merry-go-round.

Fun!

Not!

The only shade was in the picnic pavilion where we scarfed down our Chick-fil-A in between me yelling at Beckett because he was whining and refusing to eat because there were flies buzzing about and yelling at Brendan for repeatedly taking off his shoe and then asking me to put it back on. I realized after eating that I had low blood sugar which always makes me angry and no one likes me when I'm angry.

So, after eating we played on the playground until Beckett and I couldn't take the heat any longer then we marched a 1/4 mile to the dog park.

Cooper wandered around off leash and we played freeze tag. It was fun, but miserably hot. After about 20 minutes of that, we had to go home and I swear I thought I would never get them all back to the car.

Finally we did and we got home to the comfort of air conditioning only to have Cooper start freaking out again. Thankfully, my dear friend Laura rescued us by inviting us and Cooper to her house for a playdate. Cooper played with her dog Sonny and fun was had by all until 5 p.m. when it was decided that daddies would be home soon and dinners must be made and we had to come home again.

I ended up popping some corn for me and the boys after putting Cooper in the basement where he couldn't hear the noise as well and all was going great.

I was just running a shower for Brendan when suddenly I heard it! Crash! The sound of glass splintering on the kitchen tiles. I ran into the kitchen and immediately looked toward the counter where I had just poured myself a glass of wine. Brendan was saying, "Beckett did it! I told him not to!" when I looked down and saw that I was standing, barefoot, amid shards of broken glass and popcorn.

And then I realized that my favorite bowl was broken.

I know. It's silly. A bowl.

But it was bowl I had had since before I knew Scott. A bowl I loved. A yellow mixing bowl, medium sized, with a wide opening. The bowl I made French toast in. The bowl I used for popcorn.

I know most moms with common sense would use a plastic bowl, but I hate plastic. Hate the way it looks and feels and smells.

This bowl was gorgeous. The color of sunshine. And I was so angry that it was no broken into countless pieces on my kitchen floor.

Mad at my two-year old who doesn't really know he shouldn't take it off the kitchen table and carry it to the living room although I tell him many times every day that he can't have food in the living room.

It was the exclamation mark on a really shitty day. And I had to lecture myself that people are more important than things. But I have to wonder, why is it always my shit that gets broken. My favorite pitcher that was a wedding gift. My favorite bowl. My antique table that gets a chip out of it when a baby throws his bottle.

Why?

I think beautiful things add to our quality of life and there's nothing wrong with having them and that if more people had them and the ability to afford them they'd be happier. I'm not saying we should covet things or put them above human beings, but damn it! It makes me happy to look at pretty things and that bowl made me smile every single time I used it. That's why I picked it out yesterday to put popcorn in.

I ended up banishing Beckett to time out until I got all the glass cleaned up and by then I was calmer. Initially, my blood was boiling I was so angry. I was slam doors and throw things and yell at everyone around me angry. But I did none of those things. I tried to call my best friend who wasn't home. I tried calling Scott but he doesn't understand my anger so I didn't follow through on that.

I just gritted my teeth and swept and cried silently and debated myself over the non-monetary value of things.

I'm not angry now. Just sad that I no longer have my favorite bowl. And I feel stupid for letting the kids near anything I treasure. I can't tell you how many necklaces Brendan has broken while I was wearing them.

I guess I've learned a lesson. I'm not sure what it is. But today was a new day. And I'm moving on.

2 comments:

Lisa said...

Oh man. I followed your hot day at the park on Facebook. I don't get the no shade thing except that park designers must not use parks, especially with kids and pets in tow.

Losing a favorite bowl or whatever is a sad event. And I agree with you - I've always been affected by my surroundings and I just feel better when things are nice and pretty and tidy.

And a bowl in which one makes French Toast is something not to be messed with. Mine was broken a few years ago and I still miss it.

Cranky Mommy said...

I struggle with that too. It's hard to find the desire to maintain a lovely home when no one respects it. Sure he's a kid so that respect lesson isn't necessarily one he can understand yet, but it doesn't make it any less frustrating to feel like you cannot have a home filled with things you enjoy. Yes, family is the most important thing in the house, but it's not the only thing.