Tuesday, February 23, 2010

All it took was a single cup...

This cup, to be exact. I'm trying to get into a routine with my son. We wake up, and I go out to the kitchen to get both our breakfasts ready. Warm his bottle. Brew my coffee. Putter around and get together random breakfast foods while those first two things accomplish themselves. If I'm lucky, Sam waits patiently. Today, Sam was not patient. He was already screaming, and I was trying to rush around to get organized. So everything was ready and lined up on my bedside table. Everything except the coffee.

I poured in some cream, stirred it up, turned to put the spoon in the sink, and then turned back to grab the coffee.

I wish I'd gotten a picture, but my mind obviously didn't go there at that moment. Or for several moments after.

I spilled the coffee. Obviously. And I don't mean spilled it on just the counter or just the floor. No. I did a grand job. Start with the counter. The momentum carried the coffee onto my stovetop, into the drip pans, and then under them. Then it sloshed down the front of the cabinets, where it immediately stained. Continue down the door of the oven, and into the oven, and down into the storage drawer. And then the floor. The coffee hit the tile floor with force, splashing it across the room and under the refrigerator. It was, for lack of a better word, spectacular.

But I think I handled it well. I swore. I swore so terribly that, were I Catholic, I would be left hoarse from the number of Hail Mary's it would take for atonement.

Next logical step would have been throwing things, right? Or crying? Screaming? Nope.

I sloshed through the mess, put the mug back under the Keurig, stuck in a fresh coffee cartridge, and pushed start.

You can't tackle that kind of mess without coffee.

Today's lesson: When you go two weeks without mopping your kitchen floor, it will inevitably find a way to force itself to the front of your attention. And this means drowning out the screaming, desperate baby while you get your surgically wounded body down on its hands and knees to mop up the mess. The upside? Kitchen floor's clean.

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