Tiny Loud Wrecking Balls

I still remember my oldest son’s third birthday. The day before, I took him to Art Van Furniture so he could pick out his “big boy” bed. He picked out a Captain’s bed that had plenty of storage underneath. He didn’t know about storage, he just thought it was cool. I also remember three weeks later crying as I scrubbed futilely at the scribbles of Sharpie marker that had magically appear all over the side of it.  When did he do it?  Where the hell did he even get a Sharpie marker from anyway?  I didn’t know there was one even in the house.  Actually I have this theory that children between the ages of 3-6 have the ability to make Sharpie markers appear out of thin air.

A year later I decided to replace the shredded and cat clawed sofa and loveseat that resided in my living room.  I purchased a chocolate-brown studded microfiber set that was gorgeous.  I selected chocolate-brown because I knew it would hide dirt beautifully.  I purchased microfiber because the salesman swore it was impervious to cat claws.  The new set was classy.  It was sophisticated.  It was the first pieces of furniture that I bought brand new just for myself.  Up until then everything I owned was someone else’s castoff.  It was all too soon attacked by a preschooler with an ink pen.  Again I cried as I scrubbed and scrubbed to remove line after line of blue ink.  Thank God after about an hour I had pretty much all of it off and the bit that was left was barely noticeable.

Tomorrow my husband and I are closing on our dream house.  It is a beautiful brick ranch with custom hardwood floors, tile and stone bathrooms, stainless steel appliances, oak cabinetry, and I absolutely love it.  Yet, I am also terrified.  I no longer have one tiny, loud, wrecking ball, I now have two, and between the two of them they can break a house as easily as Mario and Luigi can break bricks.

I look around our condo we still live in for the moment and there are gashes and missing chunks in almost every wall.  The carpet, good God you don’t even want to know how disgusting the carpet is.  There are nicks and gouges on the banisters and several cabinets.  The door to the washing machine touches the floor when you open it because my oldest decided the best way to remove a pot that was stuck in the bottom rack was to use his foot to push down on the rack as he pulled up on the pot.

I can’t wait to move into my new home, but I want to leave my two wrecking balls here in the condo.  We can visit them everyday and then afterwards head home to a perfect house free of damage.  I want to spare my new sanctuary the wear and tear and utter destruction that my two boys will rain down upon it.  Unfortunately there are laws that prevent that.  One thing I can say is that there will be NO SHARPIE MARKERS to ever pass through the front door.

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Comments

  1. One day my husband happened upon me sniffling in the family room and he asked me what was wrong and a I cried, “We don’t have nice things anymore!”

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