Dude. Yesterday was rough. We had some sort of crazy clumsy and chaos curse take hold on our home. The morning, started with Matthew in tears – not feeling well. I was scheduled to teach classes at the boys’ school and obviously I couldn’t take a sick Matthew with me. So, we worked out that Mike would work at home and I would take Zach with me. (With both boys here the reality of actually accomplishing any work would be total blarney). With that change thrown into the day’s plans, I was running a little late and hurriedly slapping make-on my face in the bathroom.
Enter Zach carrying a velvet box. The velvet boxes are used every year for presents (or for the guise of presents and are simply pretty props under the tree). Zachary comes in announcing that this one has a gift inside for me. (This is a game played every day here – it’s either your birthday or Christmas and you get to open a present – usually some random toy wrapped in the throw blanket or a book that we’ve had for years hidden under a pillow. They don’t usually conform to the standard definition of gift, but of course, we play along and act surprised every time. My favorite ‘gift’ was Mr. Potato Head’s arm, part of a LEGO construction crane and a broken bead necklace – or “pirate’s treasure” in this house. I thought that gift was quite thorough and thoughtful. I’m sure just like the gold, frankincense and myrrh brought to baby Jesus, my triad of gifts held all sorts of promise and meaning).
Anyway, Zach takes off the velvet lid to reveal the Nutcracker snow globe that I successfully stole and brought home from last Thursday’s preschool Christmas party and gift exchange. Matthew had just been saying how we “needed” a snow globe. (‘Cuz it’s maybe the one Christmas chotchke that our Christmas-house lacks). And this particular snow globe was perfect as it was not only the Nutcracker (he loves the Nutcracker) but he was dressed in his toy soldier garb complete with drum (Matthew has a thing for toy soldiers and drums…). So, needless-to-say, Matthew was THRILLED when he woke up Friday morning and found the Nutcracker snow globe on his bedside table.
And we were all devastated when the snow globe present slipped from Zach’s grip and shattered all over the bathroom floor. Glass. Snow globe mystery fluid. Glitter. Nutcracker dude. Everywhere. The first thing out of Matthew’s mouth was, “Well, we’ll have to get another snow globe.” How quickly he’d moved on! Granted he didn’t have much of a chance to get attached, we only had it for four days. I pointed out that, if that’s how we treat our first snow globe, chances are slim that another would be blessing us with its presence any time soon. This is maybe also why we don’t have any pets currently.
The snow globe was the snow ball, so to speak, that set off the day’s nonstop clumsiness. When Zach and I arrived at preschool I made the choice-slash-mistake of letting him “help” me carry in my instruments. Thankfully, all I entrusted in his care was my box of jingle bells – those are fairly indestructible and it’s a good thing, as the moment we walked in the front door, he face-planted and dumped the entire box. It was more loud than mess at least.
Classes went great, but Zach and I were tired and ready to get home at the end of the day. I was famished and very ready for a late lunch. I don’t know if it was my eagerness or just plain lack of coordination (or the curse), but I pulled a small bowl of pomegranate seeds out of the fridge only to have them slip, tip and dump all over the floor. Pomegranatey mess everywhere.
Then, when I went to change Zach’s diaper, post-lunch, I discovered a complete and total mess of explodified diaper crystal innards. If you’ve ever had a diaper explode, you know what I’m talking about. It was enough of a mess that it required actually bathing the kid (we don’t do that much, you know, it’s a big hassle this whole cleaning-your-kid thing) and having to pull out the vacuum to collect the diaper crystal debris from the carpet.
Later in the afternoon, I was met with two unpleasant realities – Matthew: yelling “Come wipe my bum!” from the bathroom where he’s presented himself in “down dog” Yoga pose for my wiping ease and Zach: standing stealthily in the corner of the family room, soberly and lethally filling the entire downstairs with fumes and quietly stating, “I’m poopy.” Yeah, ya think?!
At this point, I’m seriously thinking about buying a haz-mat suit or wrapping myself in tarp.
Finally, after a day filled with the chaos of our clumsiness and the clumsiness of chaos, we sit down to dinner. Lasagna. I think that the curse has at last been lifted when I super-mom save Zach’s bowl of red pasta gooeyness from plummeting to the carpeted floor below. Seriously, I caught that thing AS it was pole-vaulting off the edge of the table! I’m so proud of myself it takes me a moment to recognize what’s happening across from me. Mike and Matthew are wearily studying his bowl of lasagna – now located on the floor, under the table. Of course it is. It was only fair – the universe had to shift just a smidge to make up for my super-mom moves and Matthew’s bowl, of its own accord, slid from the table in order to make for one last mess.
Oh, but then I ran the garbage disposal not knowing that a fork was in it. Then, the day was complete.