Them’s the breaks.

Fact: it is impossible for me to say to my kids “Them’s the breaks,” when things aren’t exactly going great and not hear my mother’s voice echoing the same sentiment to me and my sibs twentymumblesomething years ago. Is it a generational thing? A regional thing? In any case, we heard it a lot growing up.

Anyone want to venture a guess into what kind of night we had?

Oh, it wasn’t that bad. We’ve certainly lived through worse. And in fact, we all regained our focus rather quickly; it was more of a night when things went from good to bad so fast you couldn’t help but laugh. Literally.

It happened like this: we were pulling up to the house. It had poured and rained and stormed and rained some more all night and most of the day. consequently, the grass was really green and seeming to grow right before our eyes. We were laughing and chatting and being all “SPRING! Spring is here! I LOVE SPRING!” To cap it all off, as I pulled up to the house, getting ready to back into the garage, I heard the little people from the back seat start yelling, “BUNNY! There’s a bunny! Look, mama! Bunny!!” Indeed, there was a bunny hopping in our front yard, chewing on the weeds grass that had sprung up overnight. “Take a picture, Mom!” I love that to my darling city-dwelling children, something like seeing a bunny rabbit is still the most magical(!) thing(!) that could ever, ever happen. So I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture to satisfy my sweet, demanding children. As I backed into the driveway, the bunny froze and then hopped under the hedges that grow against the front of the house. “The bunny lives there, Mom! At our HOUSE!” Bee was in raptures. Gracie was trying to convince her it was the Easter bunny. All was perfect in our world.

Then the girls saw that it was trash day and that I needed to pull the trash bins out to the curb and get the mail – which is code at our house for Go Ye Forth And Ride Your Scooters Until I Yell At You To Get Yer Butt In The House And Do Your Homework. In other words, the greatest night ever continued.

And that is certainly what one of my children did. The other one… Well, you heard me say about all the rain and the storms, etc. etc.? Which made for some pretty big puddles. And the Bee-girl, oh, she zipped right out the garage on the scooter and hadn’t gone more than three feet when her scooter jack-knifed and spilled her, face-first, full-long, into the most epic puddle of all. I mean, it was a belly-flop kind of performance. With skidding, if that’s even possible. Bee came spluttering up and Gracie and I kind of froze for a second. Then I started laughing. I wanted to get a picture, but poor Bee started crying and ran to hide behind the car. I finished putting the trash out and got the mail because I am a very mean mama. And also maybe because she wasn’t hurt. So mean, in fact, that I even made her go get her scooter and put it away before we went in the house.

Them’s the breaks, kiddo.

But it turns out that even mean mamas have a heart, so after we limped inside, I helped the Bee-girl undress and ran her a hot bath. Hot baths are the only things to soothe you when you’ve been dripping wet in 40° weather and your mean mama laughs at you. Macaroni and cheese for dinner doesn’t hurt, either.

Oh well. The girls will learn – you do what you can, when you can. You take the ups with the downs. And when nothing else works, you repeat all the non-sense sayings you remember your mama saying to you when you were little. And somehow that makes all the little in-between moments better.


2 Responses to “Them’s the breaks.”

  1. Kathy Says:

    So glad she wasn’t hurt. Read her the scooter story from Burgh Baby – then she’ll know grown-ups do the same on scooters.

  2. Hilarious verbal blunders, passed from one generation to another. | Can't Get There From Here Says:

    […] …and that is why I’ve created my own little universe. Pull up a chair. « Them’s the breaks. […]

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