I hate nice days.
They make me feel guilty. I always think, “Soon its going to be winter and we are going to be stuck in the house and I will be begging for plus 15 weather. Turn off the t.v Fat Ass and go play with your children.”
So off we go to the driveway.
Whirlwind is riding around on her Run Bike (the kind with no pedals) and not wearing her helmet. And Baby Bot is skinning his knees while crawling around on the cement.
Suddenly, a blood curdling scream. Whirlwind has fallen off her bike and there is blood all over her face. I run to her (4 steps) and at the same moment Baby Bot is climbing up the cement steps to the front door and looking very unsteady.
What do I do?
Console the one that is already bleeding and check the damage?
Prevent the other kid from arriving to the same result?
Hmm…. which kid do I love more?
So what do I do…..?
In perfect Kyla fashion, I do neither.
Instead I yell at the neighbour. “Excuse me… Excuse me….. I need help!!!!!!” Wouldn’t this be the perfect time to get to know her better? She seems really nice. Maybe we will become best friends and bring each other casseroles. At the least, I could borrow a cup of sugar or something.
She runs over and I scoop up Whirlwind and carry her into the house while telling the neighbour that, “The Baby” is climbing the cement stairs and “could you do something about that…”
I bring the bleeder to the kitchen and start planning a trip to the dentist.
The neighbour carries the baby into our kitchen and watches me wipe down Whirlwind’s face. Which is actually fine. There really wasn’t that much blood. Just a bit of road rash on her chin and the blood in her mouth was from her tooth gauging her lip. No real damage at all.
I take Baby Bot from the neighbour and that is when I see the real damage.
My home. My home was the damage. Here I was thinking it was my child that was the bloody mess. Nope not the case. Not my kids face. It was my home. It was repulsive. Hoarder’ish. Damn embarrassing.
Why is it that you don’t notice how disgusting you live until you look at your home through someone else’s eyes. How could I have not noticed this?!
I am just lucky no one called Social Services. Because the next day, any time anyone asked Whirlwind what happened to her face, she was quick to tell them, “I fell off my bike and I wasn’t even wearing my helmet.”