Broken Glass, Chewed Cords, Dinner Conversation and Problem Solving.

Phew. Rant over. Maybe I can compile lists of the things that bother me and from time to time I can put them all together in one big venting blog.

I started this post last night...all I got was the title. I've grown attached to the title in the last 24 hours so I'm leaving it, even though I can't for the life of me remember what the cute/smart thing was that Jacob said at dinner last night. This would have covered the 'dinner conversation' portion of the post. Damn. I'm leaving it in here incase I think of it because it was like the most astute thing I have ever heard him say. I thought Mensa was going to come a knockin'.

Broken glass: The energy in our house is bad, or something. I blame it on the addition, for which I have to think of a better name...the Monster...blech. I don't like it anymore. Put it back. It's not worth it. The mess, the total disruption of life, the fighting, the spillage of stuff. Or it could be all the negative energy flowing from the insane drivers that go past my house (and up and down the driveway real fast, fast enough to kill a child leaping from behind the fence - no matter, I wouldn't want you waste five seconds going slower so you don't run over my kid). Either way, bad things happen here. Not a big deal, but just weird, in the last week, four glasses/dishes have been broken. Three by me (one a bowl) and one by Jacob, three were glasses. The glasses I don't care about, the bowl was NEW as a wedding gift. Not much here is new, so that sucks, but the glasses, whatever. I'm happy to see some things go, like when I get to throw out a pen that has no ink. Yay, one less thing. Don't ask me why I felt compelled to take a picture of it, but here it is. Even weirder: it's pretty so I'm keeping it for when I become an artist specializing in mosaic art. Seriously though, I've always wanted to do mosaic art. But it has to be authentic and what better way to make a statement on my life than to gather all the broken shards and piece them together to make ART?

Chewed Cords: No big deal...just an example of what living with rabbits is like. I warned Zach that Nutmeg was getting back there. I saved his ass more times than I can count by picking up the cord and making a new barricade. How can he possibly be mad at Nutmeg for doing what rabbits do? So he ruined a $100 extension cord, but be mad at yourself for leaving it out to tempt the rabbit in the first place.



Problem Solving: Yesterday I left the house and went to my mom's for a few hours so Zach could be alone in the house for a big chunk of time to work on the addition. He just had to run into work for a little bit to help with the break-down. I came back home four hours later and he was NOT HERE YET. I swear that place is going to eat him some day. Jacob and I just drove right on to the college and marched right into the field house and retrieved my husband to bring him home. Leaving the parking lot, Jacob spotted a few gazebos that were awaiting transport (as part of the load-out from the show). I did not see the gazebos, so by the time we were already past them and it was clear Jacob was having trouble coming up with the word for them, they were out of view. All down the driveway I drove slowly, trying to coax a good enough description of them out of Jacob so I could figure out what he was talking about. "I can't think of the word, you tell me.." he whined in an increasingly irritated manner. I asked him to describe them, we played 20 questions, nothing. Finally Jacob said, "Now I'm really mad." with all the conviction in him. Instantly I pulled over and rolled down my window to tell Zach we were heading on back to the parking lot. I'm pretty sure this is an obsessive-compulsive thing, but when he said that, I could feel all the rage building up in his chest as if I owned it. This is something that is such a big deal to me that I can't even explain it. It's just so innate to me. I think it's something that I get about kids that maybe some people don't? I don't know. I just know how sometimes you just need that one little detail in order to bridge the gap between the you that existed a minute ago and the you that will live out the rest of your life. It feels like if you don't complete the thought/action/sentence that you will never be heard and you will die. You. just. need. it. to. click. I could just feel the release for Jacob when we pulled back in and I saw the gazebos. "Oh, gazebos!" I said and all the tension fizzed right on out of the car. On the way home, and for the rest of the night, we practiced saying ga-ze-bo and then put the syllables together and talked about what ways Jacob could have explained the gazebo to me; "Like a house, but with no walls, and sort of round." or "Grandma has one in her back yard." Jacob's not always going to be around people who understand what he's talking about before he's said it so I want to give him the tools to be better understood.

Oh my God this is long - and boring - and probably doesn't make sense. No, I don't think my life is that interesting that I have to write every little detail. This is my catharsis. And this little blog has ruined me for journal writing so if I don't get it down here, it gets lost to the fog.