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Konk & Crash
KitchenTypicalMorning

Yesterday started off as a good enough day. Singing birds, big rain-filled cotton ball clouds tossed across the sky, and a day of sweet baby and interesting work in front of me. All I needed was some coffee.

Getting to the coffee maker, on the other hand, would be a challenge. Usually, we're on top of the dish situation, but not yesterday. Yesterday was a Dirty Kitchen day, which never makes mama very happy. It delays the caffeine.

I plunk the baby in her Bumbo seat on the floor in front of a toy and kick into dishwashing mode. Mak sings to herself in the new adorable baby babble that permanently replaced the pterodactyl squawk sometime the day prior. Nearly finished, and ready to set about making coffee (finally!) I go to put away a cup in an overhead cupboard. Being rather small, I'm on tiptoe, sliding the cup into our overstuffed shelves, when suddenly, everything shifts.

An enormous glass Pyrex bowl flies out of the overhead cupboard, drops like a rock, and nails me straight in the temple. It then bounces off the counter and splinters in an explosion of glass on the floor. Things narrow to tunnel vision and get swimmy, and I suddenly find myself sitting in a pile of glass, my head in my hands. The baby's screaming.

I make sure that I can stand up, neverminding the goose egg swelling up on my head, and make sure none of the glass went in Mak's direction. Satisfied that it didn't, I smooch her appreciatively, and move her out into the living room. For the next hour, I'm cleaning and double-cleaning, so no glass shards end up in a family member's foot. It's about the only time I can remember being willing to go Martha Stewart postal on the kitchen rather than leave it for our twice-monthly housekeeper.

Just as the last bit of glass powder is dumped into the bucket, The Varmint wakes up, hears the sad sad story, and fetches me the long-sought after cup of coffee. He sits down next to me, inspects the lump, and puts his arm around me. 

"You've had better mornings," he observes, wryly.

"Yeah," I say, tears springing to my eyes. "I have."

"How bout we just sit here for awhile and drink coffee? Ok?"

"Ok..." I pause, then brighten considerably, "The good news is that the kitchen is clean and has been completely reorganized! It's so --"

I stop myself mid-sentence as I see the look on his face; he's inspecting my pupils. Translation: "You've got crazy going on - you SURE you're not 9-1-1 material?"

"It needed it," conclude lamely.

"Yeah," he says agreeably, "it did."

 Too bad it took a concussion to get there...

 

 

 

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I am a writer and lazy artist who loves travel, architecture and design. Right now, I'm into photography. My fabulous husband (a.k.a. The Varmint) and I are also the principals of a San Diego-based creative agency - and new parents to the divine Baby Mak. Read More >