So this is the kind of busy for which I can soooo empathize and it's the catalyst for the dream I had the other day. Does this kind of busy sound familiar to anyone else but me? Early last week, I walked my youngest son down to the bus stop at the corner. My neighbor (who shall forever remain unnamed) and her children come running out of their house as the bus pulls up to the stop. My neighbor's hair is wet. She's frantic, but laughing. Most days, she is completely dressed and ready for work by this time. I know something is wrong.
“What happened?” I say to her. “What's the matter?”
She tells me that just as she is finishing getting dressed to go to work and get the kids out the door, a family relative's dog, that she is dog-sitting for, notices that the family has not yet had a chance to clean off the kitchen table from breakfast food. In fact, they have left an open bottle of maple syrup sitting on the table. As everyone leaves the kitchen in their morning rush, the dog sneaks up to the table and pounces. The syrup splatters all over the kitchen, all on the rungs of the kitchen chairs, the table, the cabinet doors, everywhere.
When she hears the commotion, my neighbor runs into the kitchen, sees the syrup spilled onto the kitchen floor, grabs for the dog and then realizes that maple syrup completely covers the dog's thick fur. The dog runs from her, and jumps onto the couch, spreading the syrup further onto her upholstery which then prompts her other dogs to come over and check out the first dog. Long story short, her house is covered in syrup and she's late for work. She doesn't know what to do.
After several "OH NO's", I offer to help her clean it up. She refuses, saying that she has to leave and get to work before she's late. She says she will deal with it when she gets home. And with much self-guilt and second-guessing myself, I do let her go without a fight--because I've been there. I've been in that same situation when sometimes it's better to just leave it, beat the traffic, and get to the very-hard-to-come-by job on time, and clean up the mess later. She assures me she's okay and that she contained it as best as she could until she gets home.
“I'm hoping the dogs will lick it all up by the time I get home,” she says, laughing. Besides trying to figure out what is the best way to support her, I can't get it out of my mind how much this reflects our own busy family life.