The saying goes that there is no use crying over spilt milk, but what about broken glass?
I woke up and helped the hubby get out the door for work. Then I went to bed. (I am so thankful my schedule is flexible enough for naps!) The nap turned into a 3 hour nap.
I was jolted awake by thunder accompanied by loud wind. The sudden end to my nap combined with the fact that naps are apt to disorient the napper both caused me to attempt to get out of the bed quickly in a panic to rush to close the windows.
Now, I cannot get up from the bed as quickly as I used to. Trying only results in either me falling back into the bed discombobulated or akwardly slowly getting out of bed. This time the result was that I nocked my body pillow into the nightstand. The nightstand had a glass of water (for the pregnant lady to sip on). The glass of water was no match for the in-motion pillow. In my disoriented state I could sense that the glass was falling. I wasn’t moving quickly enough to do anything about it. Then the unmistakable sound. Of glass. Breaking.
I realize that every once in a while everyone has a justified breaking-of-a-glass-cup incident. I feel like I have had too many.
My solution? Ignore the fact that the glass broke, get up with from the other side of the bed to check on the windows, and go back to napping.
You know that trick that you see on professional cooking shows? The one where they use the flat part of the knife to squish the garlic clove so that it peels more easily? We use this trick all the time.
Wednesday evening during dinner prep I was attempting to use the trick again. I was using the knife I had on hand – one of our favorite knives in the fleet.
A millisecond into the trick I stood stunned with:
I am still flabbergasted as to how I broke such a sturdy knife with such a simple maneuver. It was one of our best knives – again, a wedding gift – maybe we should request new, and preferably indestructible, cups and knives as baby gifts?
I open the fridge. The pickle jar had become antsy… Because as soon as it had the opportunity, it jumped out of the fridge and slammed into the floor.
So much for having the luxury of dill pickles on hand. And, add one more breakage to my tally for the week. Did I mention the jar was glass?
I’m still not sure how to account for all the mishaps! I’m sure hormones are partly to blame. Normally I am a very glass-half-full person. But maybe it is because I broke the glass – at times it has been hard to see the glass as full in terms of what the bright side to all these breakages is!
My husband is my hero. He listened to me patiently as I sobbed on the phone. He smiled and laughed over my brute strength and the subsequent broken knife. He shrugged even though his beloved pickles met an untimely death. And he outdid himself and went one step further…
Andrew knocks over a glass. Thankfully it doesn’t break. Close call.
Not 10 minutes later, he knocks the glass over… again. This time it breaks.
We make an awesome team. Between the two of us we have killed two of our favorite glass cups. I joked that since we are going to have a baby soon, and then a toddler, maybe we should just go ahead and switch to plastic cups now. Andrew wondered out loud about whether his actions constituted the husband-with-pregnant-wife “sympathy clumsiness”?
We may be a few cups, a knife, and several pickles poorer, but I think we have learned to laugh at broken glass (even if my hormones initially cause me to burst into tears). I have come up with a Adrielle’s Paraphrased Version of Matthew 6:19-21. It goes like this:
19 “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal, and where pregnancy clumsiness breaks,20 but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in and steal, and where pregnancy hormones can not affect. 21 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
After writing the above, it was time for Andrew and I to get ready for bed. I walk into the master bathroom. I still don’t know how it happened, but some action I did resulted in the small glass cup that was sitting on the sink originally ending sitting broken in the sink. At a lost for the proper response, I threw up my hands and turned my pregnant belly 180 degrees in order to face away from the all-to-familiar situation. I didn’t know what to do. I thought the irony was heightened by the fact that I had just finished writing this post. I guess I had a chance to put into practice whether or not I really was “treasuring” our glass cups. I hope I wasn’t, because we have one less to treasure.
On a bright note, it did provide some for some comic relief. Andrew started his prayer with, “Dear Lord, Thank you for the glass cups that we do have.” I’m glad the Lord has a sense of humor, because there was absolutely no way I was going to make it through that prayer in a solemn manner. At least we have gotten to the point where we’re able to genuinely laugh about broken glass.