Okay, I've been out of the blogging groove for a month or so now. Don't know what happened to those creative juices, but they were definitely not flowing. Sometimes it takes a mountaintop experience to get a girl back to writing. Sometimes it takes a poopy day. Literally.
I got home at 3:30 from a day of supply teaching the most wonderful grade one class. Seriously, the sweetest little cherubs I've seen in ages. They actually sat in a circle on the carpet when I asked them to and sang the little songs I taught them and told me that I was the best teacher in the world. (When I teach, it's actually all about me - can you tell?) Duncan was at football practice, Emma was babysitting. It was just me and Benji boy. Aaahhhh. I could feel myself relaxing and settling in for a nice quiet evening. I mean, the day was practically over. Time to coast through the remaining few hours til bedtime.
Wrong. Somehow my mother-senses had gone AWOL. Seriously, we all know that life with children just doesn't work that way. It's precisely in the most peaceful moments, the times you let your guard down, that life kicks it into high gear and knocks you on your keister.
First blip on the radar of my perfect day: Benji turns to a limp noodle while practicing the piano because his teacher wants him to do "the wave" with his hands as he plays a staccatto (sp?) song called "The Flute Player and the Bird." My perfectionist child cannot face the cold harsh reality that he might have to practice for more than one day in order to accomplish this. My heartrate accelerates slightly.
Blip #2: One of my other two children (who will remain anonymous in order to protect my own health and well-being) receives the bad news that a dear friend is moving on to a new church and school ... not the best news of the year. Many many tears. Much unhappiness and grief. No desire to hear words of encouragement or wisdom from Mother. Sigh. Heart rate definitely up and a slight flush to my face can probably be observed.
Blip #3: I realize that the dogs (our dog, Toby, plus Charlie, his mom who we're dogsitting for my parents) are still in their crates downstairs in the laundry room. I trot downstairs to let them out. I swing open the laundry room door. I am met by the most concentrated wall of dog-poop-odour that I have ever smelled in my earthly lifetime. (And that's the only lifetime I've had so far.) Let me just say that I've grown up with dogs. I've stepped in my fair share of "piles" over the years - I'll spare you the details - but I'm just saying that I'm no stranger to the more offensive odours involved in dog ownership. Charlie, however, had topped them all. What I found in her crate was beyond anything I've ever had to clean up - human, animal or otherwise.
Blip #4: A phone call to John at work confirms my suspicions that he had totally forgotten to come home at lunch and .... let the dogs out. Huge blip.
Blip #5: I discover more of Charlie's revenge for an 8-hour-crate-day on the carpet downstairs. In more than one spot.
Blip #6: When I go to mix up my carpet cleaning concoction, I realize that I'm all out of white vinegar. Will it make it worse or better to scrub up dog poop smells with apple cider vinegar? Hmmm....this was a deep and vital question for me today.
Strange to think that my seven and a half hour work day felt infinitely shorter than the three hours that followed it at home.
Well, there you have it. My day. I guess I'd better go check on the apple cider vinegar downstairs.
