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Friday, July 1, 2016

Children break things

In 2008, my husband and I bought a vase.

We had just moved into our first legitimate home together. Everything was brand new to us. The place seemed huge. It was just the two of us. We were waiting for our kids to arrive.

Actually, I bought a vase.

I'm not great at home decor, and by that I mean I suck at it. I do not have refined tastes, and I don't know the difference between an original indy artist's painting and a print bought at a thrift store. But I was trying.

So, I bought this huge shiny brownish vase. From Marshall's. For $20.

And I loved it.

Soon after its arrival on our fireplace, my husband looked at it and said, 'why is there an empty vase here?'

And I was like, um, 'IT'S DECORATION, DUH."

"No, no. You can't have a vase without something in it."

"Um, yes you can. I'm pretty sure Pottery Barn does this shit all the time." (I'm paraphrasing, here. Eight years ago, I wouldn't have said this. I would have meekly smiled and nodded. But I'd say it TODAY, and so let's just pretend that's what I said. Because I definitely thought it.)

But an empty vase would not suffice. A few days later, my husband came home with some forest-green fake leaves. I don't even know where they were from, but they smelled like the inside of JoAnn's or Michaels or The Christmas Tree Shop.

Whatever, we are high class, okay?

We stuck the leaves in the vase, and voila. Before we'd even hung our (by which I mean my husband's) paintings on the wall, we had an accent piece to die for.

It went supremely well with my pregnant belly and my impeccably clean, before-kids carpeting.

That vase stuck with us throughout the years. It saw the layoff, the move to Florida, a condo and then our rented house (because lol if we're going to buy again after the housing collapse that we felt the brunt of).

It saw my kids as infants, toddlers, little kids, and finally, the big kids they are today. It's been a steady friend and companion. One of the first things my husband and I ever bought together (the couches you see in the picture being the first. ... Do you see that white couch? WHAT FOOLS WE WERE.)

Three moves, three jobs, and a family later, that vase stood tall, guarding the fireplaces of our abodes.

Until the other day.

I don't know how many times I've said/shouted/screamed 'no running in the house', but I'm pretty sure the dog doesn't want to eat glass. Anyway, I may as well have said it 0 times because apparently running in the house is still and will forever be a thing here.

And when you catch them in the act, they do that awkward quick conversion to super-fast walking. loooool, okay, kids, you fooled me.

The girls, to their credit, were distraught about breaking this vase. I didn't even yell at them. It turns out, they feel way worse about doing something by accident than when they are purposefully being turds. They feel the way I want them to feel when I've chastised them for being rude or mean. Only they just accidentally broke something. Life isn't fair, y'all.

I shooed them outside and set to work cleaning this mammoth mess. (I got the dog new food and washed his bowl. Don't worry. He won't be killed TODAY.)

I brought the shards out to the garbage, and when I came back in, my girls had given me the gift of a new vase for my husband's hilariously colored leaves.


This happened two days ago, and their "vase" is still there in front of the door with the leaves in it.

Not because I'm sentimental and touched (although I am), but more because I'm the kind of mom who looks at things on the floor and long can this stay here before something bad happens?

I'll let you know.

For now, enjoy our decor as you sip some coffee from a stained mug and marvel at our bean-bag filled, princess placemat having, high-living, jet-setting lifestyle.


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