We came to India with the bare essentials; clothes, blankys and other loveys, a few books, and a not enough toys. We had a small shipment that included things that we thought we could not live without for a year, but it was due weeks after we arrived. Our house was available two days after we arrived, so I shopped for things like sheets, towels, pots, dishes, and glassware. One think that I noticed was just how much Corelle dishware there was available for purchase. I am not a big fan, so I when out of my way to search out a regular stoneware dish set. It turns out that the abundance of Corelle is likely due to the fact that the majority of houses here have marble flooring that is not forgiving when things are dropped.
We have actually been pretty lucky, and have only broken a couple of the bowls and small plates from all of our dishes. Given the lils propensity to drop things, I think that we are doing ok. I actually thought that while I was unloading the dishwasher after lunch today, although I should have known better. Within about a minute of the thought I dropped one of our wineglasses, which shattered spectacularly. The lils came running, but were content to sit and watch me clean from well outside of the shrapnel zone. They happily pointed out the pieces that I missed while sweeping and chattered on about the dangerous mess that I had made. I was sad to lose a glass that from a set that I liked.
Woo and Goose wandered off and I very carefully went back to unloading the dishwasher. Once it was completed, I noted that Woo had left half his sandwich on the table to be saved for later, so I thought that I should at least put it in the fridge. I quickly grabbed a saucer out of the cupboard. Too quickly. As I frantically tried to catch it as it slipped out of my wet hands, but failed. Seconds after the tell-tale crash, Woo called from upstairs. “Another glass?!” he said derisively.
Broken dishes are clearly exciting, as they both came running and sat in the safe-from-shrapnel zone. As they watched me sweep the kitchen for a second time in five minutes, they began to have a “whispered” conversation about how Mommy broke another dish, and just how clumsy I was. They went on and on and on about the clumsiness, saying things like: “Oh, Mommy is soooo clumsy”, “did you see that clumsy Mommy broke another dish”, and “why do you think Mommy is so clumsy”. I desperately wanted to tell them exactly how not helpful that was and shoo them away. I couldn’t because it likely would have been cute if I wasn’t so ticked at myself, and it because it was true. It began to lose it’s charm when the lils gleefully told our cook, then our guests about how clumsy Mommy is. When Daddy came home they retold the story several times, again focusing on how clumsy I was. They are a treat.
Postscript: As Willy was tidying the kitchen just now, I heard the crash and smash that has become all too familiar in such a short period of time. Third piece TODAY. Funny, no little voices called down to ask who had broken what, or ran to discuss how clumsy he is…