"I was so frustrated, I just wanted to grab their balls and squeeze them until they popped!"
At work there is a list called 'Things Overheard during Finals Week'. It was started by one of our department counselors who has a most uncanny knack for walking into a room where a single sentence, taken out of context, can mean a something entirely different than what was intended. The list, while easily overlooked is quite funny and has grown to be quite long.
The first line of this entry is one such example of something that could be found on the 'overheard' list. I was talking about the kids playing in the house with those irritating bouncy balls that nearly every grocery or discount store has in those giant cages that inexplicably draws your kid to them resulting in an ear piercing and insanity inducing 'BbbbuuuuT ma-MAAAAA PLEEEEEeeeeeeeeezzzzzeeeee....' as they beg for the one in the VERY MIDDLE until you are finally worn down or no longer want to be subjected to the piercingly judgmental glares of passing strangers as they respond to your 'precious' offspring howling for the millionth time.
Their bouncy ball games have resulted in overturned glasses of water, knocked over plants, swinging chandeliers, and one very sentimental and expensive rice paper watercolor being very nearly shucked from the wall. The one that I bartered for and then carried in my lap all over China, stored in here-and-there living situations for 20 years and finally was able to collect enough pennies to have it framed.
And then the kids began playing sports in the house.
I was not (and am not) impressed by their athletic abilities in this situation.
Whenever I post an entry, it takes me forever to edit, update, and ensure that the entirety of the story's context can be found within the post to alleviate confusion or possible misunderstandings.
There have been many occasions on FaceBook or other 'on the fly' social media where my posts have resulted in harsh responses by those who don't know me well, or read an entry thru the filter of their own lives and don't see the subtle wry humor that I'm prone to. I'm trying to break that habit of over writing my blog posts and adopt more of a well written, but in-the-moment form. I need to write, I need to create, and over-editing stifles that.
Please gentle reader - if you happen to read something that gives you pause or causes you to 'see red' and drives you to respond - I invite you to compose and post a comment. Lets start a conversation - but I also ask that you 'step back' for a moment and see if it's there is context that might be missing - maybe you don't know me well, we don't share the same type of humor, or your life's story brings an entirely different context to the one you are reading.
As for the kids' balls, time solved my problem.
That and a firm "I really Love that you are having so much fun with your balls, but those need to be played with OUTSIDE, please do so."
One popped when it was thrown against the sharp edge of a cottonwood trunk, the other when a child jumped on it in a demonstration of how 'look mom, it won't pop!'
And when it did, I comforted said child. Kissed his boo-boos and wiped away tears as we chatted about the poor ball.
Inside though, I did a virtual arm-pump and silently mouthed 'YES!'
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