We finally installed baby-proofing latches on our cupboards. I say we, but you all know that I mean Andy, my handy man. I am so, so grateful for that.
Jack really loves garbage cans. The bathroom one is right at his level and you can often find my with my foot on top of the lid, curling my hair and keeping him from pulling out yucky items from the trash receptacle.
He also loves the kitchen garbage.
Yesterday was not really a very good day.
Can I just confess that I've been a wee bit grumpy-overwhelmed-feeling like a failure-frustrated-and several other kinds of yucky this week?
I'm getting a hair cut tonight, so maybe that will help.
But anyway, yesterday.
I got a call on Tuesday from a friend. She said that a woman at our church, a mother of SEVEN, was in the hospital with kidney stones. Yuck! She asked if I could make some dinner and bring it over.
I said sure and immediately tried to think of what I could make, on a budget, to feed such a big family! I was not very creative, but I figured it was okay. Food is food, and it is so much nicer when someone makes it for you, even if it isn't fancy.
So I went with the standard pasta dishes. I got two big disposable foil pans and made one of white-sauce and meatballs, and one of a chicken parmesan. Throw in a couple of bags of salad, a loaf of garlic bread, and I thought it was looking under control. I put everything in a big box and, feeling virtuous, headed down the stairs to load it in the car.
I was walking the box down the stairs and wouldn't you know, the bottom fell right out of the box. Guess what else fell out of the box. Everything.
Pasta, salads, bread, and the sparkling cider that I threw in for mum and dad.
Okay, so everything scattered on the stairs. That was bad. Add a crying child shaking the baby gate while I survey the damage. Then add me stepping over the child to get new bags and paper towels. Then add the crying child, giving up on crying and crawling over the pre-baby-proofed garbage, opening the cupboard and pulling out remnants of lunch and breakfast and who knows what.
It was one of those slow motion moments. A cherry on top of a yucky sunday. I moment that you both laugh and cry because it is so ridiculous and so frustrating. The proverbial straw.
But it didn't break my back.
Because you know what, none of the pasta escaped the tins. The lids broke and the pans got a little mangled and a teeny bit of red sauce splashed over the edge. But all the food was still in tact. And the cider bottle didn't burst! And garbage on the floor is just garbage on the floor.
So I sucked up the tears and put everything back in the best presentation that I could and made the trek to drop of the meal.
I apologized for the mangled tins, but you know, they didn't even mind. All was well.
I still cried on the way home, because you know, sometimes you just need to cry. But I made it and I helped someone else, and my cabinets are proofed and now it is just a story to tell and a lesson learned.
I really don't care for weeks when I feel so frazzled and worn, but I'm learning that they come and go. I made it through this one. I'll make it through others. And on the horizon is a trip to a sunny destination, free babysitting, roller coaster riding and maybe even a massage.
Excuse me while I close my eyes for a moment and dream... sigh.