santa mug

This story begins as a tragedy, but never fear...there is a happy ending.

I was sitting at the school desk, the kids were playing upstairs, and then it happened.  CRASH.  It's hard to mistake the sound of something breaking as it hits the floor.  I took a breath before asking, "what broke?"  Ava replied in a hysterical voice, "I am the WORST GIRL IN THE WHOLE WORLD!!"  This was followed by a lot of tears and apologies.  At this point I didn't even care or know what broke.  My heart was breaking because my girl was in pain.  I scooped her up and calmed things down.  The thing that broke was my Santa mug.  I don't have many childhood items, especially Christmas decorations, but my Santa mug was made for me by Auntie Susan in 1979.

It was at this moment I realized that being a parent, and having to be the adult, really does stink sometimes.  One part of me wanted to cry and grieve over the pieces of my mug that lay on the floor...while the other knew how I responded to my Ava girl was far more important than a broken mug.  She would remember how I responded.  How she was received.  Whether or not she was forgiven and still loved more than any possession I own.

After telling Ava I loved her, giving her lots of hugs, and that I was sad and the mug was special but I loved her more....I picked up the pieces and threw them away.

Once the kids were getting ready for bed I called Brian and told him what happened.  He could tell I was upset, but there wasn't anything that could be done.  He told me to get all the pieces out of the trash and leave them out for him.  I objected, pleaded, but he didn't take no for an answer.  The next day he'd super-glued my mug back together.  Sweetest.  Guy.  Ever.  (he has the super-glued fingers to prove it).