Baby Steps

This morning started off with a bit of a hiccup.

Mary Claire spilled half a gallon of milk at the breakfast table and tried her darndest to silently and stealthily clean it up before I got downstairs -- resulting in a smeary, stinky mess all over my kitchen floor, my kitchen table, her homework, and George's chair. George proceeded to harass her, and all hell broke loose. As I was coming down the stairs, the screaming began.

"SHUT UP, George!"

"We don't SAY 'SHUT UP,' Mary!"

"I HATE YOU, George!"

"We don't SAY 'I HATE YOU,' Mary!"

"I don't care what the RULES are! I still HATE YOU!"

And that's when I arrived on the scene.

The kitchen was a disaster, the decibel level was climbing, and my blood pressure was rising.

"That's enough from both of you!" I demanded in a somewhat controlled (but commanding) voice.

And I'm pretty sure I must have been rendered temporarily mute because neither of them even acknowledged my presence.

And they continued. With increased volume. And with greater venom.

And then Mama pulled out her trusty old can of Whoop Ass.

I slammed my fist down on the island and yelled, "I said that's ENOUGH! I won't have this in my house!"

And George looked at me and remarked smugly, "I thought you said you weren't going to yell at us anymore."

And even though I momentarily wanted to dump the remainder of the milk over his head, I knew he was right.

We've been working a little differently around here lately. There's a whole lot less drama, an emphasis on responsibility and ownership, and an intolerance for playing the victim.

If my kids hear me say, "If you can't change it, choose it" one more time, I'm pretty sure their heads will pop off.

So, I apologized for my outburst, cleaned up the milk mess with Mary Claire's help, and asked for a morning "do over." And because kids are generally resilient and forgiving, it was over for them. And because my eyes are looking through a different lens now, it was over for me, too. (Amazing, I know. The Queen of Grudges just... let... it... go.)

After I dropped them off at school, I met a friend for coffee -- one whom I haven't seen in far too long. We talked and sipped and talked some more. And the sun began to feel warmer and brighter.

Then I ran a couple of errands and met my Renaissance Man for lunch. Over refried beans and taco salads, we spent a bit of uninterrupted time together. A most welcome gift, indeed.

I then ventured out to buy some fresh flowers for the house. I jammed to J Lo's "Let's Get Loud" on the way (who KNEW I'd enjoy Jennifer Lopez so much??), and the world was once again brand new.

I struck up conversations with random strangers, smiled maniacally at everyone I passed on the street, and bought lemonade from a kids' neighborhood stand -- at four times their advertised price.

When I got home, I finally hit "send." My complete manuscript is now in the hands of the four requesting agents. NOW. As we speak. It's out there. OUT THERE.

And then I called my Dad.

Who says life has to stay the same?