I love being a mother. I truly do. It is the best job in the world. Sure, there are some days when you wonder if your children are idiots. Or “Special.” (Which means, retarded, but we can’t say that anymore) Case in point, years ago, we had just built our new house and we had just moved in. I had just scrubbed my kitchen floor earlier in the day and it was looking pretty. My husband and I had walked my brother-in-law out into the garage as he was getting ready to leave, when all of a sudden, Alex, who was only about 4, came running out crying and pointing back into the house. “Mommy….unrecognizable blather….Adam” I replied, “Ok, Alex, Mommy will be right in.” I had no idea what the hell she just said, but if Adam was involved, it was going to be good.
We had a large kitchen with a dining nook and an eating bar on the island and on another eating bar by the family room. One big room. I walked into the family room, and Adam was standing still in the kitchen, like a marble statue. Like they were playing Freeze Tag and Alex quit and had walked away from him a while before. “What? I asked Adam. Then I saw it. Shards of glass EVERYWHERE. Thousands upon thousands of mini pieces of glass, or shards, like I just said, all over the counter, all over the floor, all over Adam. Well, and in a path to the garage, because little Alex was covered in glass also.
“Oh my God!!!” Don’t move. Adam, what happened?” Now, you have to understand that Adam didn’t really let anything bother him. I am sure he was thinking that it was an experiment that didn’t go too well. Like the time he and Alex covered their legs with toothpaste (Never found out what that was about). Or the time they poured the whole container of baby powder all over their bedroom in the old house because they didn’t want people to want to buy it. He wanted the house to look “Yucky.” Well, son, it did look yucky, since the day before that, when you poured all of the cereal out of the boxes and stomped on it. Gave new meaning to “Snap, Crackle and Pop.” I had no idea he was trying to sabotage us selling the house. I just thought he was quite mental. Smooshing jelly beans into the carpet was a highlight.
I didn’t curse in front of my children. I really didn’t say a curse word in front of them until Alex was in high school. Then, I realized I enjoyed it. I curse all of the time now. Enjoy getting my friends to join in. So, anywho, I didn’t curse that day, and I think even the most prim and proper person you can picture would have given their permission for me to spew out some expletives that day. “Adam, what did you dooooo?” (You idiot)
“We were sword fighting.” Adam replied like it really wasn’t a bad idea. “With what???” I couldn’t get to him, as he was surrounded by lovely pieces of glass shrapnel, intent on piercing and living under the skin forever. This was just pissing me off.
Yes, my mad scientist son and his assistant, Igor, were sword fighting…with light bulbs. No, not the long ones that are flourescent bulbs, but the regular light bulbs. I believe they were 60 watt bulbs. (Why am I mentioning that?) Why would anyone in their right mind even think to sword fight with light bulbs. Pretzel sticks, perhaps, even soft, friendly Q-Tips. But not light bulbs. Right then I realized I was probably going to be put into a “home” before I was 60. (Only have 7 years to go.) And right then I realized that Adam’s elevator didn’t go to the top floor. It went beyond.
I worked on that kitchen for hours. I first had to take their clothes off , examined their bodies, and I looked through their hair. Surprisingly, they had no glass there. I then handed each child to Jay, and he took them upstairs for bathtime. Even though they just had freakin bath time while my brother-in-law was downstairs talking to Jay. I then wiped off all of the counters. I swept the floor with a broom. I swept the floor with the vacuum cleaner. I then got masking tape and got on my hands and knees and put my face down close to the floor to look for pieces I missed and would dab them with the masking tape. Then I did the whole process all over again. Each time I widened my circle. Hell, glass could have been in the cat dish for all I know. .All the while, I was trying to figure out why they would sword fight with light bulbs. I guess they went through a couple of the 4 packs.
The next week I stepped on an errant piece of glass that was out of my of cleaning region.
“F&^%! Son of a Bitch!!!” No, didn’t make me feel any better. There was glass now living under my skin. I would be aware of it everytime I took a step. I talked to my mom, aka Joan Crawford later that day and told her what happened.
“Oh, those poor kids. Vickie, you should never leave kids alone, even for a second. You should know better than that. They are so lucky that glass didn’t fly in their eyes and blind them. Why, I had THREE kids and I never…………………………….(oops, hung up on her by mistake)
NOW I felt better.