This post was tentatively titled “Why I didn’t yell at the kid who dumped coffee in my laptop” and also ”kijiji is no place for your adorable children” but I figured I’d start at the beginning.

So after a bit of crazy week, I got up Saturday morning with my youngest, and took her downstairs for some quiet playtime.  My oldest was already up, getting in some Wii time in the basement, and I waited to call him up, figuring a bit of peace first thing was a nice treat.  Ever notice how when kids get together, the volume doesn’t just double, it multiplies enormously?

Well, we were enjoying ourselves, and I took the time to make a cup of coffee, and sit down with my laptop to jump online.  That’s how my son found us twenty minutes or so later when he came bounding up the stairs and into the kitchen.  No, he didn’t tackle me and spill my coffee.  Yes, I set it down as he approached, just in case.

No, he wanted to sit down at his own computer, an older laptop we have set up for him, so he settled into his chair and slid his laptop over in front of him.  Doing so moved a large piece of brown paper we have had covering the table, and it made a large raised area of paper, and so I stopped him, asking him to move it back before we messed everything up.  He shoved it back, the paper yanked out and my coffee toppled, sloshing all over my laptop, and over half of the keys.

Time froze.  I froze.  My kid didn’t even realize what had happened, and in truth, I still don’t know how it could have spilled.  Two movements, back and forth.  Two seconds, lost in time.  And suddenly I’m moving, and I realize it’s on my laptop, it’s spreading near my Kobo, my iPod and I’m wondering why the hell I’ve gotten in the habit of dropping them near my computer.  It seemed handy, and logical before but as I madly tossed them onto dishtowels to absorb the coffee and started cleaning, I cursed myself.  Ugh.

My son realized something was happening from my quick motions, and watched me jump up.  Before he could ask, I told him what had happened.  I could tell he didn’t understand at first that he had done anything, didn’t realize that his movements had caused it.  And in that moment, any anger that might have started building, disappeared.  I cleaned up as best I could, I gritted my teeth in worry at what might come next if it didn’t work after being dried off, and I explained to my son what had happened.  I was right – he hadn’t realized.  And he was sorry, I knew.

I tried to find a way to be more mad at him, after all, I knew the laptop might be dead.  I thought about saying more, knew I could raise my voice or yell if I tried.  But, because a few minutes had passed before he even understood, I had a hard time getting mad.  Don’t get me wrong, I get frustrated with my kids, I get irritated, and I’ve yelled over far less.  And I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t mad, but it just didn’t seem worth it.  He hadn’t meant to do it, he wasn’t being random and rough, he hadn’t jumped on me or tackled me.  My coffee wasn’t taken out by a swinging sword or light sabre, and he had been sitting down the whole time.

I gave up, accepted his apology and just worked on cleaning it all up.  I did give him the eyebrow when he asked for breakfast a while later and told him they’d have to wait a bit until I was done, what with the drowned laptop and all.  Hey, I’m human.  But that was it.

Sometimes you have to see the big picture.  Sometimes you have to realize when things happen due to carelessness or when they are just lousy luck.  Sometimes kids deserve to get yelled at for being thoughtless or rude, but he hadn’t been either.  Sometimes you don’t know what’s coming next.

Seven hours later I helped him get dressed and ready for a birthday party, helped him with the card I had bought, got the gift I’d picked up all organized and sent him off with a kiss.  Sent him off to a birthday party that had actually taken place the day before, right after school was let out.  Through some misunderstanding, and miscalculation, I had noted the party down on Saturday in my calendar.

And that’s why sometimes it’s safer not to yell.  Because less than eight hours later, you’re going to screw up too.

If you get lucky, your kid will make the same decision you did and not yell at you.

Hey.  Parenting is hard sometimes.  So is being a kid.

We’re both gonna be okay.

Sometimes timing is everything.

Sometimes crazy and brilliant come together in a memorable way.

Like this week, when I felt a special kind of goofy descend upon our family.  It didn’t last long, but for four days it felt like I was spinning plates.  Just a lot of things going sideways or adding trouble to an already busy routine:  the babe starting a new daycare, the temperature dropping to nearly minus 50 degrees with windchill, school buses being cancelled.

Add in a quarterly bookkeeping appointment that always has me filing and organizing at the last minute, and a little sprinkle of solo parenting for four days and I fervently wished for a cloning machine.  I couldn’t seem to be everywhere at once.  If the babe was tired at home, I simultaneously had to be waiting outside the school doing a rare pickup because of the cold weather.  Showering in the morning was done in a rush while two kids played and drove each other crazy nearby.  I couldn’t let any of it go, because it had nowhere to fall.  So I hung on and waited for Thursday to end, and thank God, end it did.  With a PVR taping a single, solitary minute of a show I’d wanted to watch for a week.  Thanks, technology, you can bite me.

It wasn’t all crazy, not at all.  In the quiet moments, I was doing work I enjoyed and writing things that mattered to me. So no complaints but some days I just wonder what the hell is going on.

And I haven’t even gotten to the part about one of the first mornings when, at 6 a.m., my son and I heard a sound so loud from outside it sounded like part of the house broke off, or something important popped in my head.  Buried in pillows and blankets as we were, him having already made the early excursion down the hall to my room, we couldn’t tell where the sound had come from, nor what it had been.  But I know we both jumped a foot, and then could barely breathe.  And then my seven year old comes out with it: “I know how to call 911 if someone breaks in, Mom!”

Well, that’s a relief.

But to think that either of us have to be breathless in the dark, waiting to hear something, anything that would tell us what we had heard the first time, and both thinking the worst, well, that’s a gigantic mental twist that I’d rather not live through again.  I downplayed whatever I could for him, told him I was listening to see if his sister had fallen out of bed (lie, lie, lie), but my heart hammered in my chest.

We survived, apparently it was some random mystery noise that is as of yet unexplained.  We tiptoed down the stairs trying not to wake his sister, or, you know, clutch at each other and fall down them.  I’m plenty brave about a lot of things, but this isn’t one of them.  The babe woke shortly after, and we had barely calmed down before the morning routine hit us and we were off and running.  You know, with my heart still pounding and basement still unchecked.  It’s dark down there, you know.  I had to wait and check it later.  (Oh come on, I’m not a total pansy, it’s just had this happened any other time in fifteen years there would have been 200 pounds of husband, 200 pounds of dog and/or an alarm system to keep me from worrying.)

But this one day, nada.

In the middle of all this random silliness, I happened to come across something I had never heard before.  And I like it so much I’m going to create a category for it here on the blog, because sometimes I need to be able to write about random, crazy stuff and you’re going to want to say it.

Yeah, you are.  And so am I.

Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrot.

You read that right.

I’m sure I’ll soon have a little more W.T.F. to share with you.  The world is full of it – if I’m not living it, I’m reading about it and rolling my eyes.  And most of the time it’s not worth losing sleep over, but you have to be able to share it, laugh about it or just go…seriously???

Here.  Have a little W.T.F.

You’re welcome.

Your turn!  Tell me about your week – any W.T.F. you’d like to share?  What went off the rails for you?