Accidents happen. I know this. I have a 3 year old. We don't cry over spilt milk in this house; no, instead I just spend a fortune weekly on those over-priced but highly convenient antibacterial surface wipes. My home life consists of many a sticky floor, surprise puddle, or gooey hand print. If I was seeing a shrink for my OCD tendencies, they would be very proud of me. This is what being a mother does to OCD tendencies. (Thank God for the aforementioned Clorox wipes).
Anyway, with that said, this is perhaps why I enjoy the company of adults. Perhaps it's a contributing factor to why I could never be a stay-at-home mom. I suspect the daily knocks, and spills and accidents would be too much for this OCD mom, so I save a portion of my sanity by spending 7.5 hours of my life everyday in a cubicle, where I can talk to other adults, but have a slim-to-none risk of having to clean up any spilt milk.
This theory, apparently, provided me with a false sense of security, as proven by a traumatic accident at lunch the other day. It was a free pizza lunch, and I'm all about free lunches. I even brought my own plate from home, to be green, and not have to use a paper one. (This is a pre-emptive attempt at proving I am a good person, and don't deserve these kinds of things to happen to me).
I had my pizza, my ice-cream and my Diet Coke, and I was perched with my regular lunch pals on a big sidewalk flower pot-thing when the unthinkable happened. A lady sat next to me, without looking where she was sitting, and launched my open can of Diet Coke in an unstoppable trajectory towards my beautiful brown leather Tommy Hilfiger purse. And in it went. Top down.
Time stopped, and I could literally hear the glug.. glug.. glug of the good stuff dumping out into my purse. It's actually pretty amazing how much Diet Coke can come out of an upside down can in 3 seconds. I could hear the lady apologizing, but I was so enraged by her clumsiness that I could not even look at her. Instead I did what anyone in my shoes would have done and started rescuing my drowning belongings from the pool of pop in my purse. Wallet, phone, camera, iPod, keys, compact, lipstick, bluetooth headset, Tampax, Tylenol and a Law School book. Everything. Coupons, receipts, notes-to-self, Canadian tire money, boxes of raisins, Kleenex and Halls. I'm a mom. I carry a lot of crap. Out it all came, into the flower pot. I poured the pool of Coke out onto the sidewalk, all the while muttering scathingly angry comments about the damn woman who did it.
I used more than enough paper napkins cleaning up that mess to make up for my attempt at being green, and put everything into a handy little bag in a pouch that I had in my purse. I cannot begin to explain how much this ruined my free pizza lunch though. I was mad. You would be too if there were Diet Coke droplets inside your Yves Saint Laurent Touche Eclat.
So anyway, all the expensive stuff still works. I lost a lot of paper and Tampax, but whatever, I guess my purse needed a good clean out probably in the end. I'm almost over the whole incident, but am re-thinking my theory on hanging out with grown-ups. At least when I'm with my kiddo, I expect the mishaps...I'm ready for shrug it off and smile about it, armed with a box of baby wipes and a ditty about spilt milk.
It's a good job my little one doesn't drink Diet Coke yet, because I do cry over that.