Beat up from the feet up.
It has been a day.
A good one in so many respects, but as I've crawled into bed with a cup of tea and my computer, I'm mindful of the exhaustion.
One of the few benefits of living in an older home is that the architecture lends itself to an extraordinary amount of character and a unique living experience. It also lends itself to plumbing problems, one car garages, minimal closet spaces, and lack of storage...but the crown molding, hard wood floors, arch ways, vintage light fixtures, and stained glass windows make up for it.
And so it was after mass today, my three wild and crazy kiddos were running like beasts in and out of bedrooms having Nerf gun wars, tag team ambushes and a fantastic time getting their yayas out. I was making grilled cheese preparing to take the girls to a birthday party and out of the blue, my husband and I heard a huge crash and then a quick scampering of feet and then a deafening silence.
And then, my husband yelled out, "Oh my god."
To which I went into the girls' room and saw my favorite vintage green light fixture in shards shattered all over their room...in their desks, their pillows, their windowsills, their dolls, their shoes, everywhere.
I didn't scream, stomp my feet, throw a fit or ground anyone.
Instead, I turned to my children and said, "You broke my heart."
I know, I'm a heartless bitch.
They all converged on my son, Sam's room, closed the door and started talking in hushed tones while I finished chopping vegetables. Instantly, I knew my response was wrong. A light fixture is a thing and given how high it fell and how much glass dispersed, we're insanely lucky that no one was really hurt. It could have been a bad deal.
So, when they headed to the dining room table, I gave them the speech that I swear to God my mom gave me and my siblings many moons ago. "I'm really sorry for my reaction. I know it was just an accident. But mommy has such few nice things that it's really painful to see it go with something we've talked about before. Rough housing belongs outside."
Long after the glass had been cleaned and we started to prepare for the new week, I was still beating myself up.
If you tell someone, particularly, the people you love the most that they've broken your heart, you better mean it and for good reason.
This was not one of those times. Lesson learned.