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Chaos

June 9, 2008

The quick & dirty for this weekend goes like this.

The Wife and I are painting the foyer. Late Saturday night Kid One trips over the bucket of paint sending it down the stairs. The stairs, banister, & floor are unpainted wood, or were. Not only did the paint splatter the woodwork but it seeped through some backboards and ran down the basements stairs too. Coming to rest in a pool on the downstairs rug. Unfortunately, as if the previous wasn’t unfortunate enough, the foyer is adjacent to the living room we had a new floor put in a week ago. While I was desperately toweling the paint off of the new living room floor I realized I had not yet replaced all of the table lamps. Meanwhile the paint is seeping into the joints, permanently like. I desperately need enough light to fill the room so I can see all the spots. I yell at Kid One to ‘get me a light fast’. Two minutes later he shows up with a small flashlight.

>BOOOOM!<

Any rationality I had left…Left. I went off like a bomb. I over reacted. The poor kid. He’s a klutz. Just like me. The wife said I sounded like my father but not in the good way. More like ‘this guy needs an intervention or medication or both’ kind of way. I don’t go by the moniker of Polar because I like the cold folks. What an ugly scene. There is nothing good about a gallon of paint cascading through one’s house. But it’s worse, I think now, to down dress your kid for doing it accidentally. essentially I made the situation much worse for everybody in earshot. Yeah, yeah, it was a unusual paint in that one MUST maintain a wet edge while painting or the job goes to hell. Which means one cannot just stop halfway through a wall for an hour to clean a spill. But once the can went down the stairs all that became moot anyway.

I wish that I had said something like ‘Um, your supposed to play Kick The Can with an empty outside in the yard.’

I wish that I had made like a foreman on a Exxon Valdez clean up crew calmly pointing out missed spots and issuing towels. letting Kid One learn how to clean up paint.

I wish that I had made this a lesson instead of a catastrophe.

I wish that I had laughed instead of panicked.

The real mistake here was not made by Kid One but by me.

The real damage here was not done to the house but to the relationship between Kid One & myself, Dad Zero.

8 comments

  1. I wish that you could see the wisdom that you have gained. Maybe a painful lesson for you and the boy, but knowing it, hurting over it, arms you , prepares you for the next moment.
    (((HUGS))))


  2. I haven’t had the paint incident happen…yet…but, there have been many a time my Imps have brought wave after wave of chaos and klutzy’ness to a moment and its not that that drives me over the edge…its when they stand there (the following example not based from real experience…*l*); the drapes on fire, the dishwasher spewing soap and pets, retaing walls collpasing and they stand there, frozen, deer in head lights look, and utter such priceless phrases as, “Well, the dogs are washed and now you don’t have to launder the curtains”. We all lose our tempers, good for you for learning from it. *s*


  3. Wow, it sounds like you are in a great place for self growth. I wonder if the enviroment around you has anything to do with it?

    The pains of growth don’t get any easier when you get older but sometimes the scars linger longer.

    Try to not carry a scar but a lesson instead. Thanks for sharing.


  4. From the Queen of Motherhood=Guiltsville, the Parenting Princess of Shoulda-Woulda-Coulda, many many(((((hugs))))), Polar. Redemption is always close by….it’s our saving grace.

    Peace,
    Chantal


  5. Lady Sorrow,
    I don’t think I’ve gained any wisdom yet. Not until something like this happens again. when I can demonstrate my new found wisdom indeed. Thanks for the understanding.

    Harley,
    So far I’ve only learned that I’m impatient. When I grow up, however, I hope to be more reasonable. You know that to temper steel one must first have steel. Thanks.

    immwia,
    Some of my scars linger longer because I pick at the scabs & keep them from healing. Quick I need disinfectant! Thanks

    Chantal,
    Thanks for the solace. I figure my time is up for Kid One who is 15. He knows my number & I doubt I can change any of that. About the only thing I’ve done right is to end every conversation with a ‘love ya kiddo’ & a hug (still). He has the last laugh as he’s going to be the one to pick my old folks home in the future. God I hope they feed me at least once a day! Thanks.


  6. Polar, one thing in your favor is that Kid One has inherited some of your genes and you may have a chance, yet, to comisserate with Kid One should he also have times when he “loses it” with angry outbursts. The next time he has his “moment” you can put your arm around his shoulder and say something witty and wise, especially if his anger is directed towards you. You just need hold up the mirror, forgive each other and hug each other. We all do things we wish we hadn’t, but it matters if the heart is contrite, which your’s obviously is, my friend..:) I’m also really sorry that it was an “accident” of major consequences. I’m sure there’s painful reminders in subtle hues around the area that will keep “lessons learned” not far from one’s thoughts that will bring balance to the situation sooner or later. Forgive yourself and your son for balance. {{{hugs}}}


  7. Janet,
    (Sigh) I’m hoping he’ll be able to forgive his kids as fast as he can forgive me. We went fishing this weekend. We both did better than usual. We then drove home each with a cold soda while listening to our favorite music. It’s as if some cuts can be stitched up again. Bee good to you. Dobry


  8. Polar, always remember “two steps forward, one step back, two steps forward”… a good dad is still a human. If you continue to struggle and grow your child will do the same. Peace


    Your right. I wish I didn’t trample those I love when I step back though. Sigh. Thank you.



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