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All I Wanted Was Some Lunch

February, 2008

I got home right about noon today in need of a bathroom break and some lunch. Instead I had an episode with the dog. I’m sure you know how it is. You get home, you let the dog out of the kennel, you put her out on the chain. When she barks, she’s ready to come in. She likes to roll in the snow, so you wipe her off and set her free. Then she runs like a maniac through the house.

All fine. I finally make it to the bathroom and when I come out, I see that she’s puked on the floor. Irritating, but okay, I can deal. I turn around and head back to the bathroom to get supplies to clean it up. As I’m coming out of the bathroom, the dog starts her pass through the dining room, where the puke is. I start running from the other end of the room, trying to beat her to the spot.

Unfortunately…

I watch, hoping against hope her feet will miss it.

Unfortunately…

A scream of frustration escapes me. I grab the dog, wipe her paws, and send her on her way. Then I mop the floor, from the beginning of the trail to the end of the trail, and stomp back to the bathroom to put away my supplies. As I’m washing my hands, I see the dog has come back to the dining room, only this time she’s squatting.

“No!!!!” I roar, running to the dining room. I scoop her up, march her to the door, and put her back out on the chain so she can finish pooping outside.

Too late.

I see there’s already poop in the dining room, some in the kitchen, and another piece hiding near the doorway between the two rooms.

By now the children are seeing me split a seam.

Bless their hearts, they help me clean up. The dog can just stay outside. Forever. All I wanted was some lunch.

Now all I want is to find some chocolate and inhale it.

But I’m staying in control. I’ve got a goal and this will not derail me. I take a few deep breaths and we get our lunch. We sit down together, pray, and begin eating.

Then the last straw breaks. Actually, it was a cracker. I like to eat my chili on top of saltine crackers. As I take a bite, part of it breaks. Not uncommon, but this time some of the chili flies off and lands on the floor.

Another mess.

“I’ll get it,” says Ciaran.

Bless him. I move the cracker to my mouth for another bite, but too late. The cracker breaks again, dumping chili all down the front of my shirt, into my lap, and all over the table.

“You clean up the floor,” says Orion. “I’ll clean up Mom.”

They don’t know it, but I am holding back tears of excruciating frustration. All I wanted was some lunch.

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Chantal L. DeYoe
Products For A Good Life

I am a Christian and a homeschooling, homesteading mom who endeavors to continue moving along the path toward becoming a full-time writer.
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