Being on call last night, Melvin had a handful of deliveries and didn’t get home until very late. He came into the room and reached to set the alarm, which is located on my nightstand. As you can guess, he ended up accidentally knocking over my full glass of red wine. It ran all over the stand, the wall, the carpet. Not a fun clean up at 2:30 AM, but one that my husband insisted on doing (probably because he knew I’d more than likely do a half-ass job of cleaning it up).
On Thursday morning I attend a Bible study/mom’s fellowship group through my church called Mom’s Spiritual Spa. After I managed to get the kids strapped into the car on time, I ran upstairs to grab my Bible study book, which was located….on my nightstand. The edges of all the pages were purple, slightly damp, and scented with the spilled Shiraz. But it wasn’t ruined, and I had some questions marked from my lesson that I wanted to discuss at “spa.” So I brought it with me.
I told my husband this evening what happened. He couldn’t believe that I actually still brought it.
“Weren’t you embarrassed?” he thought.
“Not at all,” I responded. “I thought it was rather funny. And so did some of the moms.”
After all, Jesus’s first miracle was turning water into wine, so I just considered it a tribute to his Almighty power.
In addition to my ‘alcohol’ episode at my Bible study, I’m sure I solidified the “Mom of the Year” award while there.
After the study, I hung around with some of the moms in my group eating a packed lunch. Cameron was wrestling with 2 other boys his age. Suddenly, we heard a “bang” and then a cry. Cameron emerged from the bottom of the 3 boy pile, having a breakdown because he hit his head on a metal cabinet where they were wrestling. He’s usually quite dramatic when he gets hurt, whether it’s really bad or not…..usually not. So I tend to minimize the injury, rubbing it quickly, giving it a peck, and just telling him to brush it off. Showing any kind of genuine sympathy usually results in greater wails of agony.
He continued crying loudly, and I continued to try to convince him that he was just fine, and he needed to stop crying. The 2 boys apologized, and Max even ran by to give him a hug. But he still persisted. Feeling that he was just tired and blowing the entire incident out of proportion, I finally told him quite firmly that if he didn’t stop crying, he wasn’t going to get to play at his friend’s house this weekend (something he won’t stop talking about). I actually tried to justify this ‘consequence.’ “If you don’t stop crying, you’re not going to Eddie’s house. Because you might accidentally hurt yourself there, and then you might not stop crying. And I don’t want his mom to have to deal with your crying” (Great logic..huh?). Hearing this, Cameron finally managed to calm himself to just sniffles, and home we went.
Later in the afternoon the boys were getting their haircut. And while I was trying to balance all the dinosaurs Max was handing to me while he waited for his turn to be tortured in the big red chair, Cameron’s stylist called me over.