I have... just this morning. It was my son, who rewarded a request by me with a big, loud, whiny "Aaaaaaaaw, I don't want toooooo." It had been the fifth "I don't want to" this morning. I'd been running around like a mad woman, trying to get things ready, so I could run my errands. I did the worst thing I could have done in this situation. I got really close to his face and said (in a rather rude tone), "I am sick and tired of your whining. Now get with it." My son, who is the nicest boy in the world, and who honestly tries to please me all the time, stared at me with wide eyes. I clearly hurt him deeply. I could see it in his eyes, his body leaning away from me, and even though I felt bad inside, I couldn't get myself to apologize. I did later, and fortunately my son doesn't hold a grudge. Good boy.
A little later, I was sitting in my car on my way to Goodwill to drop of the 15th load of junk (moving is awesome), I couldn't help thinking about this little scene from this morning. And because I can't just let things go, I thought of the other people in my life, that I've hurt... There are a few. Acquaintances, friends, and people very close to me. I never meant to. Heck, if I could change it all, I would. Alas, I cannot.
I did apologize to a woman I hurt a few years back. I wrote a note to her on Facebook. But she never replied. I suppose she is not over it.
I always apologize when I know I hurt someone. Because I never do it on purpose, especially not to those people I love dearly. I do hope that they know. I hope they understand that I didn't mean to, that I'm very truly sorry for hurting them. I do hope they know, that I spend much time thinking about it, wishing I could somehow make it go away. I do hope they know that my friendship is not less meaningful, that I love them and care for them.
I apologized to my little boy today. He gave me one of those big bear hugs only he can give, and planted a big, wet kiss on my cheek. He said, "You're the best mom in the whole entire universe." I think I am forgiven. :)
Monday, April 9, 2012
The rental house, that I will call my home for only a few more days, has a rather simple, white kitchen in it. Plywood cabinet doors with white pain painted on them... and the paint is starting chip off. The hinges are coming loose. When we moved to Oregon from Arizona in the summer of 2006, I didn't mind much. This house was going to be a temporary home. We were going to stay for a year, to see if Oregon really was all that it was cracked up to be.
Well, 6 years later, we are pretty damn sure, that Oregon is home, and will be home for many years to come. And with interest rates at an all time low, we were able to lock in a rate, that we never dreamed off, and bought a new house. When we started looking, there was no doubt in my mind that I would know right away, when I set foot into "my house". And yes, I set foot into this house... and I knew. I knew before even seeing the kitchen. But when my son called me to take a look at the kitchen, and I stepped into for the first time, that sealed the deal for me right then and there.
Yes, I spend an incredible amount of time in the kitchen. Like the cute little 1950s housewife... just with more 'tude... and without the pretty dress. After going paleo, the kitchen became even more of a place of production, of creation. Breakfast takes longer to prepare, snacks, cookies, brownies, I usually make all of them from scratch. Being able to do this in a beautiful kitchen, well, it means a lot to me. I feel more creative, more at home.
The kitchen in our new house will yet again be a place for people to gather. It connects to the dining area and living room. Life will happen in the kitchen. I'm ready.