spills

Originally uploaded by laundrylessons.

Spills are the accidents in the laundry, the “hit and run” violations in the basket. Unlike the grass stains that are the intentional remains of play or the sweat that is the residue of a workout, spills are misfortune. Dribbles, drops, and full blown puddles have stained everything in my laundry basket from shirts to tablecloths. When JP was younger he spilled his milk on the tablecloth during at least two dinners a week. Graham can not drink a hot chocolate at Starbucks, his drink every Sunday before church, without dribbling it on his shirt. His Sunday School teachers are probably baffled by the same marks each week. And just a few days ago I ruined another kitchen rug when the bottle of Clorox Clean Up, with a loose cap, trickled as I pulled it out from under the sink. Unexpected mishaps can ruin a day.

And why do spills and accidents happen the first day in two weeks you’ve worn anything other than sweats? If I decide to dress like a grown up one day, that is the day Merritt whacks her spoon, full of cereal and sweet potatoes, and leaves a huge splotch.

No one is immune to mishaps. We all know it, and we hate it. It has to do with that whole control thing. It bugs us to death to know that a spilt glass of red wine on the carpet or marker stains on the sofa have power over our well planned days. The “Go with the Flow” attitude is supposed to help, but some days the flow is a flood.

Crankiness can set in when the spills get the better of us. Last week I spilt a whole bag of dried beans in the cupboard. Rather than letting it get me, I did the best mom things I could think of; I called a kid to come clean it up. Graham took the task, with a whisk broom and dust pan, like it was a game. Hey, I have to scrub all their spills out of t-shirts, it was the least he could do.

So, like anything that has the capacity to mess with our days, I’ve learned to get help and stay calm when stuff spills or accidents happen around the house. As Forrest Gump said, “Stuff happens.” (I want to keep this G rated) And as every mom on earth knows, there are much bigger things to cry about than some spilt milk.