My Life is a Circus Act
I often compare life with The Bibbed Wonder and The Bean to a three-ring circus. They can take an ordinary day and turn it into a chaotic comedy act. Yesterday was the perfect example of this behavior. My morning began in peaceful bliss. I wrote my blog, packed orders, did dishes from the previous night’s soap making, cleaned my chicken coop, prepped my chickies for the upcoming winter months, pulled the dead flowers from some of the containers, and took my Heavy-B dog for a ranger ride. The Bibbed Wonder and The Bean took the piggies to market, went on a feed run, went out for breakfast, and stopped by the bulk store in Smicksburg. It’s incredible how much I can get done when those two monkeys aren’t around to dictate my time.
My husband and daughter returned home in the late afternoon. They came home in rare form. After they spend unsupervised time together, I find that they are wound-up and feed off the other’s smart-ass energy. This is fun for them but never bodes well for me. Jordan came home tittering like a maniacal chipmunk, and Eric egged her on. Sigh. They planned to unload the feed, fill the feeders, take care of the pile of boxes that had built up in the soap studio and then help me clean the windows. I went about my business, finished up the tasks I had been working on, went into the house to start dinner, and waited for Eric to help me with the windows.
Eric’s helping me with the windows consists of him driving the tractor and controlling the tractor bucket’s lift while I stand in said tractor bucket to reach everything that is too high. When it comes to most things in life, he is the Yin to my Yang. I don’t add; he doesn’t spell. I don’t drive equipment; he doesn’t like heights. We’re opposites, but it works for us. Having him put me up in the tractor bucket is like having our own hydraulic lift…without all the safety measures in place. As I balance precariously in the tractor bucket, Eric will make it gently bounce just to make me yell. He then sits and laughs like it is the funniest thing he has ever done. Sigh.
I am new to window washing. I know, this makes me sound like a princess, but I have never washed windows. When we lived in our big old Victorian house in Brookville, a local window washer came in and did the windows. When we lived in the farmhouse outside Punxsutawney, the window washer continued to come in and do my windows. When we moved to my dad’s homestead, the local window washer came in until he retired to Florida. Now, I am attempting to do my own windows. I Googled how to wash windows like a professional. I bought a squeegee, a new bucket, and lintless clothes. I practiced running the squeegee on windows within my reach before I had Eric put me up in the bucket to clean the huge picture window in our living room. I felt prepared and confident. Sigh.
As is par for the course with me, I realized I did not have my lintless drying cloth until Eric had me positioned almost to the roof peak. I washed, I squeegeed, I washed and squeegeed again. I really needed that drying cloth, but I knew my husband would just make my life difficult if I requested to be let down to get one. So, I did what I consider the most rational thing, I took off my t-shirt and dried my windows with it. Don’t worry; I looked EVERWHERE to ensure I did not have an audience outside of The Bibbed Wonder before I removed my top. As I stood hanging precariously in the air, with my t-shirt in hand, donning my sports bra and sweatpants, I felt the tractor bounce. I looked back to The Bibbed Wonder in annoyance to discover him laughing and taking pictures of me. Sigh. He makes me want to hurt him.
After several outbursts of protest, a bit of begging, several gestures that incorporated the double middle finger, and threatening his manhood, I finished my window washing, put on my shirt, and requested to be let down. Rather than take me straight down, he took me as high as the bucket would go, let me sit to yell profanities at him for several minutes, then gently placed me back on the ground. Once I was on the ground, he cowardly refused to open the tractor door but showed me the photos he had taken of me through the protection of the glass. Sigh. I need to continue on with this weight loss thing.
After returning to the house and going to the studio, I find The Bibbed Wonder and The Bean corroborating with their phones and laughing like two hyenas. Not only did The Bibbed Wonder take unflattering photos of me from the tractor, but my bean, my darling girl, took photos from inside the house. The treachery! The betrayal! Gasp, she has turned to the dark side. There will be no more unsupervised time spent with her man-child father. I expect such behavior from Eric, but my bean, my angel bunny, my stinky face, the sun in my universe? Sigh. This, dear reader, is what my life has come to, a culmination of my greatest fear and darkest nightmare; my child acts like her ill-behaved, juvenile delinquent dad. Sigh.
No amount of whining, threatening, begging, or swearing could convince these two to delete the unflattering photos. Although they view themselves as criminal masterminds, they forget I have compromising pictures of both of them. For example, when Jordan is tiny and cute in various stages of undress, or Jordan has a bowl of spaghetti on her head or the very embarrassing Stuart impression where she is making fart noises on the back of her knees. Also, Eric, with his bottom out, displaying a terrible boil. I have leverage; I’m pretty sure. Insert wink.
And so, dear reader, my life as a circus act continues. I grouse, but I secretly would not wish it to be any other way. They keep me on my toes, make me laugh out loud often at myself, and bring me more joy than they will ever know. It doesn’t mean I won’t use profanity and inappropriate gestures when dealing with them. It just means I secretly enjoy their alliance and camaraderie. I love my conspiring circus monkeys. However, great physical harm will come to them if anyone else ever sees those photos. Insert wink.
On this chilly November day, stay safe, be smart, laugh at your circus of a life, and wash your hands