Cause & Effect

My day…

Wake up in a puddle of pee.

Fall down 4 stairs on my way to breakfast.

Throw my French Toast Sticks in the toilet.

Go to the Gym Childcare & immediately pinch one of my friends.

Tattle on myself to the Childcare worker & ask to be put in time-out.

After time-out #1, pinch another friend, tattle on myself & ask to be put in time-out.

After time-out #2, pinch another friend, tattle on myself & ask to be put in time-out.

After time-out #3, they page my Mom.

Elated to see her, I fess up to all of the shenanigans that have just transpired & say “I pinch, I go time-out, Mommy comes!”

Go to my Dad’s office to tell him about said incident at the Gym & spit all over the car window.

Take a long, quiet ride home because now BOTH parents are upset.

Fall off the chair while eating lunch.

Too damn upset to finish lunch, so I take a long nap.

Wake up from nap with a bloody nose.

Go to the bus stop to get my sister, slip on the ice & bruise my rear.

Make Valentine cards and manage to glue my finger in my ear & paper to my eyebrow.

Pee in my Mom’s rain boots.

Eat a big dinner (I was really hungry since my first two meals didn’t go so well).

Take a bath.

Get removed from the bath for dumping a mug of water on the floor.

Sit in the dark, quietly rocking with my Mom as she says our nightly prayers, hugs me & tells me she loves me. 

While I’m sleeping…

Mommy sits in the dark, in the tub with a washcloth on her eyes and a pitcher of Martinis.

Awkward Silence

Have you ever had the urge to just say what’s on your mind?  If the answer is “yes”, then we are cut from the same cloth.  I often have this urge, and unfortunately, haven’t developed the necessary “filter” that some (but not most) adults have formed. 

Case in point…

While waiting to check out at Gordon’s Foods yesterday, I had time to size up the cashier & decided I would ask him a few questions.  Unbeknownst to my Mom, I had been admiring her low-cut sweater all morning & noticed the cashier also marveling at the blue and green in her shirt.

So, when it was our turn to give the cashier our money, I said to him “You touch Mommy's boobs?  I touch Mommy’s boobs!”  With that, I happily gave her exposed skin a thump and a shake.

Behind the red of his cheeks, the clearing of his throat and his half-smirk, that mortified cashier managed to hand my Mom her receipt and mutter, “Have a nice day.”  All the while keeping his eyes diverted down.

My Mom said nothing; not even on the way home.

She must have a really good filter.