Friday, November 20, 2009

*Soon I will be finished linking it all together*
After finishing in the bathroom Helen and I headed to her room her bed was put together. A full size bed that seemed to high off the floor for such a little girl. But is was the perfect princess bed for her. The dark wood of the four poster was in stark contrast to the pale green of the four swaths of fabric that connected them close to the ceiling. She did not want a canopy but she wanted a sky blue ceiling. We were planning to paint her room in the next week it was top of our list.

The box full of blankets was unopened and of course at the bottom of the high stack of boxes. In the hallway I had just passed the linen closet box and I put the extra fleece blankets in there.
“Lets use the extra blankets to make a nest on you bed sweetie”
“That sounds like fun Mommy and another good idea. You have lots of good ideas Mommy”
“I sure do sweetie, that’s what Mommies are for.” I reply chuckling.
As i walk into the hallway I hear water running from that bathroom. I by pass the box and head into the bathroom to see the toilet just beginning to over flow bowl. I scream with frustration and dart toward it banging my knee on the toilet with a loud crack. I manage to turn the water off and notice a whole roll of toilet paper seems to have fallen into the bowl plugging it.  I reach in to grab it sloshing water al over my clothes.
I feel the tears welling in my eyes from the pain in my knee as the water rushes out.
“Are you OK, Hon?” comes my husband’s voice from behind me.

I start to sob audibly. My shoulder shaking and tears falling down my front. The pain has exacerbated the exhaustion that had me crying before. I’ll get some towels from the box in the hall and I thin we need a trash can in here. I need an ice pack to I say. There is an instant one in the first aid kit by the front door.
As he goes to get those things I limp to the master bed room where I think I saw them take one of the suit cases with my clothes.
Passing Helen’s room I hear her singing to her self. “I’ll be ready in a minute sweetie.” I say loudly towards her open door. There is no reply but that is not unusual.

2 comments:

  1. "Mommy" does seem a little sensitive to the affairs of the day. I am curious: is she always high strung or is this more telling of the big picture?

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  2. Hmmm...Lack of sleep, the stress of moving the nagging of something odd and then the things going wrong. A little more is explained and I thing when I go back and edit I will show the passage of time better.

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