The Disastrously Different Duo of “Doh!” Moments: Two things. Completely unrelated. All avoidable. Both suck.
Incident #1: Never leave an almost four year old alone in a bathroom with the water running for more than a minute.
This should go without saying, right?
I was lulled into a false sense of complacency – The Tackler is almost four years old. He wakes up most mornings and will feed himself breakfast (cereal) and allow CG and I to sleep a few extra minutes.
He self entertains for hours, as long as his sister isn’t around to torture.
What I failed to take into account was:
- We’d practiced our letters with the dry erase cards, meaning he had marker on his hands.
- I hadn’t finished my “What the frak?” Friday post – which over the last month has lead to something in my life (appliances, house, kids) believing I need a good blog topic for that post.
As I finalized plans for the evening via instant message with CG, a noise broke my concentration: the sound of a waterfall. More specifically, way too much water hitting my tiled floor at the same time.
I knew this noise well. It was the same noise I heard when my toilets rebelled.
I sprinted immediately, confused because I hadn’t heard the toilet flush, but wrote it off as a feature of Mommy Brain Filtering (definition – the coping mechanism a mother develops to filter out the cacophony of noises she’s subjected to for sixteen hours a day including but not limited to: screaming, screeching, and all sounds battery operated toys emit).
As I burst into the downstairs bathroom, I learned the toilet was not the responsible party.
My son was along with his partner in crime: The Sink.
In his infinite wisdom to remove the marker stains from his fingers, he neglected to turn off the water as The Sink filled, reached the brim, and then overflowed onto the floor.
As I quickly shut off the water and popped the drain (forgetting in my temporary insanity to photograph it first), I observed the casualties of this assault: the tile (naturally) and The Tackler’s pants and underwear.
That’s right. The Tackler was standing there, perplexed at how his quiet quest to cleanse his hands had evolved into clusterfrak – while naked from the waist down.
Now there’s an image.
Incident #2: Computer glitch, WordPress #Fail, or User Error?
As I went about my morning computer routine while devouring my breakfast of champions (Frosted Flakes), I noticed something… off.
I had a tab open to compose a blog, but nothing was written in the box.
Even more strange, it had a title and was a saved work in progress: the beginnings of my Part 2 of The 12 Days of Sickmas blog.
Panicked, I opened the post for editing in another tab, noticing that it hadn’t been saved since the previous night (and nothing new had been composed since the previous afternoon).
It was all gone. Erased.
Have you ever composed a long email to someone, pouring out all the crazy stuff in your head, everything you wanted to say to them, hit send, had your email client error (losing the entire email), been filled with so much frustration you couldn’t even think about rewriting it, and then sent off a short two sentence response instead???
Yeah. I have that feeling. The idea of even beginning Part 2 again…
I don’t even want to think about it.
It’s made worse by not knowing+ exactly how it became erased.
Did a child somehow highlight it and delete it?
Did WordPress error out when my laptop locked up and the edit window was still open?
Did I do something in my Mommy Brain Induced Haze to expel it from existence?
Was it part of an elaborate Microsoft conspiracy to convince me to pre-write everything in Word and buy yet another frakking version of Office?
All I have to say is, “What the frak!?”
What caused you to say, “What the frak?” this week?