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Yesterday was quite a day. It was a comedy of tragedies. As moms, we’ve all had those kinds of days. You know the kind, where one thing after another goes wrong, in a seamless array of “tragedies”. You get more and more frustrated until you dissolve into a fit of laughter…because what else can you do, really?
Yes, that was my day.
I had a wonderful morning. I allowed myself to sleep in because the week before had been hectic, and Saturday I hosted a baby shower for my sister-in-law. I was home alone with the littles, so we took our time getting up. We cuddled in bed for quite a while , then they played nicely while I showered and got ready for the day. Yes, a slow and enjoyable morning.
Then I went downstairs. (Am I the only one who thinks “my day was great…until I left my bedroom!”?)
I had planned to walk the dogs, and vacuum up the baby shower confetti left on the carpets, then enjoy the rest of the day with the kids. However, upon going downstairs I found that my son’s dog, Chloe, had escaped from the utility room and had herself a party.
She had gotten into the trash and strewn it all about. She’d raided the diaper bag and pulled out some important documents, stashed in there after errands, that I hadn’t yet filed. She chewed up my decorative willow balls. And to top it all off she messed on the carpet. I wasn’t happy.
However, I figured she’s still a pup in training and I’d just clean it up. So Chloe went back to the utility room and I got out the steam cleaner to address her mess. I then picked up all the trash, threw away the destroyed decor and filed the paperwork – thankful she didn’t chew it up!
That doesn’t sound like much, but it took a while because it was a BIG mess and the little ones were underfoot.
With the mess cleaned up I felt better and decided to continue with my original plan – walk the dogs and vacuum. So outside we went (after wrestling my 2 year old into her shoes).
But alas, it was still not meant to be. As soon as we were outside I noticed Ginger, the elderly dog we inherited when my husband’s grandmother passed away, was severely entangled. She is an outdoor dog and her lead was a jumble of knots, wrapped around sticks, and the tree beside her dog box. Oy.
I turned on the hose for Ami so she could play in the water while I set about untangling Ginger. I pulled and prodded and broke sticks and huffed and puffed...and this is when I began to get irritated. I could not get her untangled without unhooking her from the lead. Of course this made Ginger happy, and she frolicked about the back yard as I continued to fight with the knotted lead.
Finally, after a heroic show of brute force, I had the lead straightened out – yay! It was then I realized I had loosed the dog that massacred our flock of chickens last spring. She was running loose while our 2 month old chickens were free-ranging in the front meadow. Nooooo!
I took off in a full run (yay, exercise) bolting around the side of the house in time to see Ginger making her way toward the chickens and ignoring my calls to return. I ran her down about 30 feet from the chickens. By now I was mad. At myself and all pets in general.
Now, as I pulled Ginger (by the collar because I didn’t stop to get a leash) around to the back of the house I noticed the other dogs, Chloe and Monroe, up on the porch. What on earth are they getting into, I wondered. Whatever it was, they were focused.
I hooked up Ginger back to the lead. I also stopped to take off Ami’s skirt because she had soaked herself with the hose – that was fine, of course, because she was having fun. We then made our way back around to the front so we could see what the other dogs were getting into.
You can imagine my sheer delight (<–where’s the sarcasm font when you need it?) when I found they were trying to scarf down buffalo style chicken wings someone had left on the front porch during the baby shower. Oh. No. If you have dogs, you know how dangerous chicken bones can be. So, again, I attempted to run down some dogs.
I was able to catch Monroe, he’s a pug, slower, and well trained. He’s a good boy who stopped when I called him and dropped the chicken when told. Chloe however, the border collie, is another story. I couldn’t catch her; she ate the chicken wing. Great. I prayed it wouldn’t choke her or cause any internal injury…except maybe a burning stomach from the buffalo sauce (that should teach her).
Having hands full of day-old chicken wings covered in dog drool, I turned around to go rinse my hands in the hose. And what did I see? My daughter standing there with a bare bum shining in the sun. While I wrestled chicken from the dogs, she thought that would be the perfect time to take off her wet diaper. She was quite proud of herself.
Really? Seriously? Why not? Okay everybody in the house!
In we went. Once dressed, Bram and Ami started playing with K’nex (thank you Lord) while I fed the dogs. As I fed the dogs I noticed something…I didn’t know what…smeared on the utility room floor. Mystery smears in the utility room automatically equal a good mopping with bleach.
So now, after steam cleaning the carpet, cleaning up emptied trash cans, untangling dogs, saving chickens from imminent death, wrestling chicken bones from the mouths of dogs, and dressing my daughter for the second time in three hours, I’m mopping the floor.
It wasn’t even noon. That was enough for one morning don’t you think? Apparently not.
Literally, the second I finished mopping the floor, Chloe vomited up her chicken wings. Awesome. I fervently regretted my prayer for her burning stomach. One more mess to clean up.
Finally, FINALLY, the utility room was clean and the dogs were squared away. I figured it was time to vacuum…you know, like I had planned from the beginning. However, I noticed it was time to get up PawPaw (my grandfather in law), get him his “breakfast” and medicine. Okay, pause vacuuming again.
Bram asked to watch Rio while he and Ami continued their K’nex play, so I decided to go ahead and pop in the movie while I fried PawPaw’s eggs. Only, guess what? I couldn’t get the DVD player to work. Now I was no longer mad, I was ready to cry. I just wanted to vacuum!! <—that kept reverberating around in my head. 15 minutes and 2 phone calls to hubby later, I had the movie playing (with sound – bonus!).
The next hour went well without anything more than the regular interruptions and hiccups that are to be expected with kids and the elderly. I was able to fix meals and feed everyone – myself included – and do the dishes while chatting with the family. Yay!
Now a sane person would have simply been thankful that the day was starting to look up. But not me. My greatest gift and biggest flaw is my tenacity. I don’t know when to give up.
I was going to vacuum by golly – come hell or high water. It was 1pm but – I. Was. Not. Stopping. Roar!
I pulled out my (awesome, wonderful, love-it-so-much) vacuum
and found the canister was full. Being the responsible vacuum owner I am, I decided to empty the canister before I vacuumed. Only, I was answering a question PawPaw had asked, not paying attention, and pushed the wrong button as I pulled out the canister.
Yep. You know what happened next. The entire contents of the canister emptied out onto the carpet.
This moment, my friends, this was when my tragedies became a comedy. I dissolved into a puddle of laughter on the floor. Not a giggle, not a chuckle to myself, an all out ROFL moment. My kids thought I was nuts.
However, I’m happy to report, I cleaned up the mess and had the carpets vacuumed in no time.
By 2pm I had accomplished what I had set out to do by 9:30am. But that’s okay. Such is life. I conquered. The rest of the day was spent enjoying time with the family. And I must say, all things considered it was a good day.
It was a good day.
So, the next time you’re having a comedy of tragedies kind of day, laugh! Belly laugh. Think of me and laugh some more. Know you are not alone in this glorious mess of motherhood! Then offer up a prayer for all the moms experiencing a similar unfolding of events. Because as frustrating as those moments can be, life is still good.