The day started rough.
It was Monday morning and my son Jake didn’t want to get out of bed. He screwed around at breakfast and then messed around in his room instead of getting dressed. We practiced his book club project in the car because he didn’t leave enough time to do this at home. I was relieved to drop him off at school.
The rest of the morning didn’t get any better. After a quick shower, I logged on to the computer and went right to work. I had a 1000 things to do and everyone wanted it in the next 10 minutes. “Prioritize and keep moving forward” is my motto when I’m backed up with work.
I’m moving, typing and doing and then I heard a noise. I know that sound. It’s unsettling and not one that I wanted to hear at that moment. I got up from my chair and looked for the source. And then I heard it again.
It was my dog Winston. He just threw up. I found him in his usual morning napping spot in Jake’s room except he wasn’t looking like a sweet boy sleeping among the toys on the floor. He was looking at me with that ‘guilty behavior’ look on his face.
The mother of all words
I stared at the two perfect piles of puke on the floor and I dropped the F-bomb. Then I screamed the word 10, maybe 20 times …. I don’t really know the total number. I lost count.
After my one-word dissertation, a frightened Winston took off to hide in the bathroom. For those of you who don’t know the story of Winston, he has a sensitive stomach and anything – and I mean anything from a weird piece of grass to eating a new dog treat – can set him off and he’ll get sick. I ran all sorts of tests on him to make sure it wasn’t something I could take care of with medicine and it always came up negative. I changed his food two times and it seemed the last change in his diet may have been the answer. It’s been almost a year since he’s thrown up. Until Monday.
I found all my old supplies shoved in the back of the shelf with the cleaning products. I had just enough foaming carpet cleaner to get some of the stain out. The all too familiar cleaning routine began and I let lose a string of curse words. I have a Masters in Obscenities so a parade of 4-letter words joined my original F-bomb.
I yelled each word at the top of my lungs. I think I might have made up a few of my own because they rhymed with the sound uck. I scrubbed the floor and I screamed until I cried. By the time, I was done cleaning, I was a sobbing mess on the floor. I had a full-force mommy-is-losing-it temper tantrum.
With the windows opened and floor cleaned, I took Winston out for a walk. “Damn that felt good,” I said to no one in particular. I realized that I’ve been working this Yelling Less Project of mine so hard that I haven’t had a good rant like that in awhile. I’ve been holding my tongue, taking deep breaths and basically calming myself down before I let the flood gates open up.
So I ask you this my friends …. I feel like the tree in the forest, if I yelled and no one was there to hear it, did I break the Yelling Less Challenge?
Photo credit: Exploding