To Call or Not To Call

Dh often jokes about the phone calls he gets from me at work. You know the type, the ones where he is diligently working to support our family, the demands and pressures of work exacting all his energy and then I call... AARRGGHH both boys are in the bleach I will be cleaning it up all afternoon... AARRGGHH if I hear two girls bicker for one second longer I'm gonna blow...  AARRGGHH there's a toothbrush in the toilet what do I do... AARRRGGHH such and such appliance broke and I can't do what I need to do.

Today was one of those days. While occupied, I heard quite a thud. Since I didn't hear screams, I assumed all was well. Turns out, all was not well. Our large picture mirror had fallen off the wall and broken, thankfully no one was in the room. I spent lunch sweeping up pieces of it. I thought about calling dh to vent about things falling off the walls, messes that take hours to clean, and little ones who seem to be inexorably drawn to such things when I desperately need them to stay elsewhere. I thought about calling but remembered how frustrated he already was.

I had just gotten off the phone with him. He was frustrated at the news that the Consulate had rejected one of our adoption documents because a staple had fallen out as he was trying to photocopy the document. Yes, because of one little staple we now have to regenerate a document, take it to the bank to be notarized, then take it to the County Clerk for certification of the notary, then take it to the Secretary of State for certification of the County Clerk. After all this, he will have to hire the courier again to walk it into the consulate to get authentication. Needless to say this will take a significant amount of time and money-- all because of one staple.

I thought of all this and quietly cleaned the mirror, put lunch on the table, and went on with my day. Then this happened:

And I really wanted to call. 

Instead, I quickly went to work and bathed two boys, then washed the cans and bottles (did you see the syrup dripping down the bottles?

 Then I mopped the floor.

Dh came home to two freshly bathed boys already in their jammies, a clean kitchen, and a mopped floor. Needless to say, he owes me!

P.S. When dh was reading this post he graciously reminded me of these phone calls too:


AARRGGHH the printer won't work...
AARRGGHH a bird just died at our back door...