Guest Blog Post: Broken Glass by Linda Beeson Rosendale

My house is, and has always been, boy proof. And by “boy proof” I mean; there is nothing that I’m really concerned about them breaking, nothing down where they can: touch it, kick it, use ninja stealth mode on it, throw pillows or toys or whatever else “accidently” at it, or otherwise destroy it, easily. I do have a collection of angels, and other assorted “pretties” on our mantle, but normally those are out of the danger zone. My china cabinet is downstairs, in our guest room/office; my porcelain doll collection is boxed up. That’s just the way I roll.

My first son wasn’t allowed in the room where the “pretties” were kept, mainly out of concern for him. I made the decision, once my twins came along, that I had neither the time, inclination, nor the desire, to remain on alert for flying bodies or objects. If you have boys, you’ll understand. And no, I’m not lazy…just realistic. I have some assorted inexpensive things sitting around at foot/knee/flailing arms level. If they were to break any of them, I’d be peeved, but not really that upset. And they haven’t yet.

My mom’s view on things was different; not better, not worse, just different. She had girls; granted not completely girly-girls, but I don’t remember either of us thinking it would be a good idea to catapult our dolls or our dump trucks into the air to “see what happened”. She ALWAYS, from day one, had antique doodads and gee-haws sitting around EVERYWHERE in our formal living/dining room. We never touched them. Never. Not one single time. Ever.

A few weeks ago, I was invited to a gathering at a friend’s house; ladies only, no children, no husbands; just the ladies. I decided to attend and take my contribution for snacks on a cut-glass platter. I went down to the guest room/office, took it out of its safe place, and washed it. I should explain that this is no small feat for me. I am a grade-A, certified, klutz but I made it through the process with no problem. My boys were suitably awed by its beauty and swore they wouldn’t touch it.

I went to the local supermarket to find a dessert contribution and some sort of “other” contribution to take to the party. It just so happens that the deviled eggs I chose were on a neat little platter and I decided to take the cookies in a cute little disposable container. So, the platter sat on my countertop…in full reach of everyone…for several days.

A couple of days after the party, I dropped a medicine bottle (Ironically, it was migraine medicine) and shattered my platter. Completely shattered it. All of the years I’d had that platter, locked away, not using it for anything at all and in a moment of clumsiness, it was gone. It couldn’t be fixed, so I gathered the tiny slivers of glass and dropped them into the trash.

As I cleaned up my mess, I started thinking about the things we found in my grandmother’s house after she died. All of the things she had that she was “saving” because they were “too nice to use”. What a waste! She had boxes of things that had never been opened; still had tags on them. She grew up with very little and I know that was part of her thought process.

I think this Thanksgiving I’ll get out a piece or two of china, or another serving platter and use them. It’s past time that my boys get accustomed to seeing those things put to use. It’s a part of their history; a part of family custom they need to experience. And if, by some accident, one of them gets broken; it won’t be the end of the world. It’s just broken.

Linda Beeson Rosendale is a stay-at-home mom and blogger. She is currently working on a thriller, and collaborating with three other authors on a horror anthology. Her home is in the Midwest, where she resides with her husband and three sons. Her sarcastic wit and snarky sense of humor keep her (relatively) sane. You can follow her on Twitter @writerlinda2008, on Facebook L.B Rosendale, Author and Blogger, and her blog http://momstime2write.blogspot.com.

Tags: later mom, midlife motherhood, mothering in the middle