Home » What To Do When It Literally Comes Crashing Down

What To Do When It Literally Comes Crashing Down

Last Thursday, I was awake early, itching to get rid of another 50 percent of something in this house.  What exactly I wasn’t sure, but with big plans the following few weekends, I have to get stuff done. . .as fast as I can.

I futzed around in the basement moving some junk into a pile for donation.  I did some laundry.  Ran the dishwasher.  Just another day in paradise.

Shortly before 9AM, I heard Mac awake in his room.  He was playing quietly with some toys, so I figured, since the Doctor hadn’t told me NOT to drag the vacuum around, I might as well just hurry up and clean the main floor of the house and be done with it for a few days.

The cleaning went well, I fetched Mac and we headed out on an important mission to get Mac’s favorite things from the grocery:  graham crackers, cantaloupe, and Craisins.  Goodies secured, we headed to the park.

Things were going well.  It was shaping up to be a great day.  I was already forming big plans in my head about what I could accomplish during nap time as we headed into the house for lunch.

Mac followed me into the kitchen and agreed he wanted soup for lunch.  I don’t love offering my kid canned soup but he far prefers it to my homemade versions and sometimes I’m just in a damned hurry. Imagine.  

So while I tried to discreetly fumble with my newest child-proofing “innovation”:  a damned rubber band, to get a can of soup out of the cabinet, Mac was wandering around kinda’ aimlessly.

knobs rubber band

Go on kid, find a toy to play with independently for 5 minutes until lunch is ready.

Apparently unimpressed with his independent playtime options, he requested a “treat.”  Which means he wanted to give the dog a dog biscuit.  I located a knob for the stove (yet another one of my kid-proofing innovations), dumped the soup in a pan and got him a dog treat.

Doesn't everyone keep their stove knobs in a drawer 7 feet away from the stove?

Doesn’t everyone keep their stove knobs in a drawer 7 feet away from the stove?

The dog treats are located on the far side, lowest shelf of some open shelving we have above our table.

I had to give the dog a second treat since Mac seemed unwilling to part with the first.

As soon as I was satisfied the treat situation was under control, I shooed Tilghman away,  turned my back towards Mac, grabbed some milk from the fridge, and was just about to turn on the stove when. . .

I heard a horrible crashing sound.  It sounded like a car driving through massive glass window.  Nearly simultaneously, I felt something small and hard peppering my back and legs with a respectable force.

Have you ever had a moment in your life when you were actually scared out of your mind to look at something?  I recall having this feeling once when a colorist really really screwed up my hair color.  But it’s not until you have children do you fully realize this sort of terror.  It takes on a whole new meaning.

What the hell just happened?  

The house was eerily silent save for the whooshing of a fan.

The kid wasn’t crying.

This can’t be good.  At all.

I turned around to find the Mac standing on a chair with an expression of slight confusion and amusement on his face and THIS:

debacle 1

Apparently, he and Satan’s Lap Hound decided more dog treats were in order. . .and massive property damage ensued.

The chaos of the mess was rivaled only by the chaos in my head.

Mac was standing barefoot on a chair surrounded by a bunch of broken glass.  I was across the kitchen, also barefoot in a sea of broken glass.  Between us was Satan’s Lap Hound who was pacing through all the glass, still looking for his damned treat.

You need a plan.  FAST!  This is a legit dangerous situation.

This situation isn’t addressed in the Red Cross Infant/Child CPR and First Aid class.  This isn’t something the stupid Girl Scouts will prepare you for.  It’s not featured in any damned Martha Stewart Magazine or on HGTV.

Short of calling FEMA, I was on my own.

Fortunately, I’m going to tell you how I dealt with this spectacular shit show, just in case you ever find yourself in similar dire straits:

1.  Gasp loudly and exclaim “Mother. . .errr. . .Marshmallow Fluffer!  What just happened?  Are you ok kid?”  Smile the whole time, while plotting the safest barefoot course through the sea of glass.  Also, take several cell phone photos so you can bitch about this unholy mess in real-time on Twitter.

2.  Tip toe through the glass and snatch kid off chair.

3.  Holding kid in one arm, still tiptoeing around the glass, attempt to get the dog into the yard without having him cut his feet too.

4.  Tiptoe back through the glass again, explaining to kid in a pleasant tone he’s going to have to “Ride with you” while you “clean up this little mess.”  Hold kid while you put on sneakers, locate Ergo, adjust Ergo, and wedge kid in it.  Rest assured the kid WILL protest because DUH, who wants to be in an Ergo when there’s oodles of interesting glass all over the floor to stomp on and eat?

5.  Stare cluelessly at mess.  Realize soup is boiling and likely contains glass.  Turn off soup, get out a new pan, and start heating up some chicken-less nuggets for kid’s lunch.

6.  Tell fidgety fussy kid you are going on an adventure to the basement for a broom and dustpan.  Promise him cookies or cash to keep him compliant.

7.  Pick through salvageable items.  Mourn the loss of the $75 antique cloche you purchased on your 2007 trip to Princess Anne with Husband. (Oh, those were the days. . .the childless, carefree days. . .)

8.  Realize you need something sturdy to put all the glass in.  Frantically search house for a box. . .Realize you’ve used all your boxes to take crap to the donation center.  Utter “Marshmallow fluffer” about 26 more times under your breath.

9.  Drag kid back to basement, and rip open his birthday gift so you can use the box.  Pray he doesn’t actually want the gift. Although, the gift is a bicycle helmet and after the destruction he just caused, it’s probably not a bad idea to make him wear it at all times.

10.  Clean everything off the table and chairs.  Wipe with damp cloths, wipe with damp cloths, realize you’re burning lunch, wipe with damp cloths, fake curse some more, wish you weren’t knocked up so you could drink.  Repeat.

11.  Once you are satisfied the table is safe again, place kid in his seat with his appetizing lunch of burnt chicken-less nuggets and cantaloupe.  Naturally, he’s going to ask where the soup is?  Promise him more soup.  Get out another can, snapping that stupid rubber band on your fingers in your huge rush.  Grab yet another pot and start over.

12.  Clean the floor you just cleaned hours ago.  Start with a broom and dustpan.  Talk to the kid about what you are doing.  Try to convince him he should stay in his seat enjoying his crappy lunch for as long as possible.

13.  Mop (again).  Offer soup as a stalling technique.  Throw the box full of your decimated prized, sentimental possessions on back deck and let Satan’s Lap Hound back in the house.

14.  Get kid out of seat, get him ready for his nap.  Under no circumstances should he touch the floor.

15.  Wait until kid is completely asleep.  Creep upstairs and shut his door.

16.  Race to the basement.  Drag the vacuum upstairs for the second time in 5 hours, vacuum the entire floor again.  Mop AGAIN.  This time cursing for real “Mother Fucker!  What a fucking mess!  I desperately want a damned drink!  What a fucking debacle.”

17.  Wipe off all other surfaces.  Drag vacuum and mop back downstairs.  Pick through the rags, washing the ones that likely contain little to no glass.  Trash the rest.  Take to Twitter while you try to catch your breath.

18.  Rip down remaining wall bracket and patch holes.

19.  Paint wall.

20.  Finally remove sneakers and inspect your feet and the dog’s feet for imbedded shards of glass.  Accept the fact that naptime is nearly over.  Wipe tears with fresh from the dryer, scrub rag.  Thank goodness no one was hurt.

Almost like it never happened. . .Almost.  

Trust me, the floor looked worse.  Way worse. . .How is that even possible?

Trust me, the floor looked worse. Way worse. . .How is that even possible?





4 Responses to “What To Do When It Literally Comes Crashing Down”

  1. Dani Ryan says:

    Oh my gawd. I just want to hug you. I can’t even imagine the kinds of swear words that were floating around in your head!!!

    When my daughter was about 8 months old, I broke a mug, cleaned it up, and never gave it another thought…until I caught her chewing on something a couple of days later, pried open her mouth, and saw a piece of the mug and a mouthful of blood. Fun times.
    Dani Ryan recently posted…This. Is. Motherhood.My Profile

    • admin says:

      The mess was positively spectacular!

      There is no doubt in my mind that we are going to be finding random bits of glass in this house even after the kid graduates from high school! Your experience with your daughter is something I’m definitely concerned about. . .but our house is so small and open it’s not as if I can ban him from the kitchen for life. I’m just living in a state of “high alert.” Gah!

  2. Oh my! Love more than words can say how you snapped photos first! And Satan’s lap dog- still laughing. Pretty impressed that you became your own FEMA too. Glad all were safe!
    Anita @ Losing Austin recently posted…Mother’s Day Wish ListMy Profile

    • admin says:

      Thanks! My Husband hated that shelf – he said it was too low and he kept banging his head on it while eating dinner. I’m still wondering if he bribed the kid to “take it out”! Now the other two shelves look weird but that’s really the least of my worries at this point. Ha!