Using Pledge on My Wood Floors.
I was heavily pregnant with my second child and several hours away from hosting a lovely holiday gathering. My house was sparkling clean and I had a little time to add some last minute touches. Like polishing my pretty wood floors. With Pledge. They were so shiny and lovely!
About an hour before my guests were due to arrive, the phone rang and I hustled my big belly down my glowing, reflective hallway in a pair of fuzzy socks. I went flying. Like skates on newly zambonied ice. And landed hard.
When I told my mother-in-law about what I had done, her eyes grew very large and she asked me if I was injured... then she laughed. She is a marvelous housekeeper and I hope to be like her when I grow up.
Using dish soap in my dish washer.
It was like a movie, I tell you. The bubbles just kept flowing out of the cracks in the dishwasher, out of the kitchen and into the adjoining room. Up to my knees. It was preferable to overflowing toilets, but still.
When I told my mother-in-law what I had done, her eyes grew very large and she said, "You shouldn't put regular dish soap in the dishwasher." A wise woman.
Filling our diesel van with gasoline.
If you don't know what happens when a woman fills her beloved diesel-fueled van with $80 worth of gasoline, well then I'll tell you. The vehicle, full of children, will stall in the middle of the left turn lane at a busy intersection in the middle of rush hour. People will do crazy things to get around you and you will feel really unhappy and only slightly better when a policemen says he is going to push your vehicle down a big hill and you must steer it into a CVS parking lot. And then you will have to figure out why it stalled and at least your husband will be so, so kind about it. At least we didn't have to scrap the vehicle but it did hurt the pocketbook significantly. And my pride.
When I told my mother-in-law about it, she oozed compassion and told me that those things happen.
|Yes, it even came with bright red INSTRUCTIONS|
Leaving small children in a running car alone.
I was just running into the house for a second. I figured that a 3-year old and 5-year old would be just fine all buckled up in the back seat. Wrong. Somehow, both of them managed to climb up front, put the car into drive and crash it through our closed gate and our new garage door.
My oldest son was 7 at the time and I rushed outside when I heard him screaming. I saw the car and the tiny little people staring out of it at me with wide eyes. So naturally, I ran out and grabbed the car by the open window and tried to stop it by pulling on it. You can imagine how successful I was. I had this odd notion that is was just rolling. Uphill. In fact, I pulled so hard that I hurt my shoulder.
And of course our neighbors (the kind you can't wait to move away from) were hanging over the fence yelling about what an idiot I was to leave the kids alone in a running vehicle. This from people whose toddlers walk around with open cans of booze. Humiliating. Anyway, we were all fine. And the kid behind the wheel will not be driving until he is 30. I remind him frequently.
My mother-in-law sat quietly with me in my misery while the men folk talked about what I should have done instead of trying to stop the car with my superpowers.
Breaking my toe by kicking a toy in anger.
Life lessons come painfully sometimes. And American Girl horses are so very, very hard on the big toe. The kids thought it was hysterical. They tried to be compassionate but the temptation to laugh at me was too great to resist. My toe will never be the same... A lesson that keeps on teaching.
My mother-in-law was compassionate and reminded me of the time she snapped a toe bone in half by banging into a night stand. She had to have the bone removed and now her toe is floppy like jello. But I don't think she is the kind of person who kicks objects on purpose.
Causing grocery store havoc with jars of Prego.
Causing grocery store havoc with jars of Prego.
I am finally coming clean. I did take the bottom jar from a double stack of spaghetti sauce jars in aisle 13. I guess I wasn't paying attention. The result was the slow motion anihilation of an entire shelf of Prego spaghetti sauce in glass jars. I tried to catch them but I kept missing and they just kept crashing. "Clean up in Aisle 13." The boy with the mop stood very still after he turned the corner and surveyed the tomato carnage. I'm so sorry, I said. He responded with a heavy, heavy sigh.
My husband loves to retell that story but his account is grossly exaggerated.
And to finish this off with a bang...
I once accidentally took a strong laxative in my ninth month of pregnancy and went into false labor for 7 horrible, agonizing, vomiting, crying hours. It looked a lot like the pain reliever I intended to take but it had the polar opposite effect. Did you know that laxatives can actually stimulate uterine contractions (gigantic, unearthly ones) and start labor if you are close enough to term? Yep. I did not have the baby that night but I would have put money on it at the time. (My actual labor only ended up being two hours from start to finish but I secretly count it as nine.)
I don't think I ever told my mother-in-law about that one. Those were the days when I still had a little motherly pride left and no blog with which to over share.
There. Now you have all the information you need in order to cast your vote...... And my conscience is at ease...