My mind was on thumb gussets and filling my printer with more paper so that I can print my second pattern for a gift I’m giving a friend. I sat here and stared at email first because I’m a Millennial and it’s been a long day already.
Then came the sound akin to a great rumbling/tumbling and glass shattering. Think of something you’ve heard in any good slap-stick comedy where a fat man falls out of a chair and knocks over everything on the finely set dinner table. I thought that one of the boys had fallen out of their chair and knocked over their apple-juice cup and peanut butter and jelly all over the place. I threw the keyboard out of my hands, I was at the stairs within a heartbeat and I flew down them while listening for what I thought would be the pained cry of a toddler. Instead, I found this:
Tree down! Tree down!
Where are the babies?
Staring at the television. Odd Squad is on.
“Um, Mommy, I think that the tree fell,” Ursa Major said.
Thank you, Jesus, for babies not being under the tree.
“What were you doing before the tree fell?”
Major shrugs. “Nothing.”
“Ok, where were you when the tree fell?”
He points to the television stand. “Over here, watching Odd Squad.”
I believe him. If he’d been messing with it, he’d either a) be under the tree or b) acting scared shitless and hiding. He’s usually good at telegraphing when he’s dong something really bad.
Babies not under the tree, next assessment: broken glass?
Nope, just broken ceramic clay.
Ursa Minor’s handprint from when he was six months old. 😦 One of my more precious ones. I’m very sad, but I have more that aren’t as good of a print… at least there is something, though.
We have a small collection of White House ornaments that are fragile and precious. They, thankfully, are not broken. None of the other ornaments are broken. Just that one. 😦
Now what? Now, I gotta pick up this tree.
And it’s surprisingly heavy. Not too heavy, but heavy enough.
I get it back up, it tips and wobbles. I lean it against the window between the living room and the playroom while I try to look under at the stand. Getting down, I realize that a gallon of water has spilled onto my 100 year-old hardwood ( that hasn’t been treated in forever) floor. Nice. Some has soaked into the rug, but not all (that is actually not a good thing at all…)
It tips and falls again.
No babies under it, again. Thank you, Jesus and all the angels!
I lift it again. It’s stable against the wall. I get down on my hands and knees to look at the stand. The stand is intact. The tree trunk in it is askew. The only person who put that thing in the stand and tightened all the screws is The Husband. Of course, this is the second stand that we’ve purchased and it was super cheep and I told that man to get to LL Bean and–
“Look, the golden car isn’t on the tree!”
I did just thank you, didn’t I, Jesus?
“Time for up, up, up! We need to go to bed!”
Screams and wails.
So yeah, this is my living room…
I have to clean it before babies wake up from the nap they aren’t having.
And then get back to thumb gussets.
And that other pattern that I need to start today.
Did I mention that I was parent helper at school today? I’ve written not a single word of fiction… and the Christmas cards are only barely started…
Lord, give me the strength.