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Tuesday, February 07, 2006 

Hiya, Neighbor!

Today LMD, the Youngling and I went to our weekly neighborhood playgroup. It was hosted at a friend's house. Her house is gorgeous and should either be in A. a pottery barn catalog or B. Better Homes and Gardens. Everytime I go over there I am in awe of how perfect everything looks. I weakly remind myself that she is a mom to one, a gorgeous 5 month old, whereas I am a mom of three, and you know who they are. *Ahem.*

The day ended and we were getting ready to go when LMD went to grab one of her toys off the coffee table when I heard a scriiiiiiiitch. I run over, frantic. Sure enough, my neighbor's coffee table which probably came from Ethan Allen or somewhere else (no kiddin', y'all, her taste is GORGEOUS!) now has a 3 inch long scratch in the previously pristine mahogany veneer. Shit.

I go to peek in on my friend who is trying to get the baby down for her nap. She is too wrapped up in getting the baby down, so I go home planning to call her the second I walk in. But I get home to find she is calling me. To thank me for cleaning up the dishes from playgroup. Damn. I suck.

"Yeah, um, you won't be thanking me when you see your coffee table."

She tried really hard. I give her mad kudos. We have both joked about our type A personalities before: mine, a reformed laid-back mom to three who will one day be type A again and hers, a comfortably settled acceptance of type A. I knew it was killing her the second I told her. Knew it. I mean, I would have been ticked, so it had to have bugged her. She told me she would look and would call me back.

If you haven't figured out by now, I am a tad bit obsessive. Just a touch. I STARED at that clock. After 10 minutes or so, I called her back, got the machine, and left a message. Sent an email. Stared at the clock. Fretted over what she was telling the neighbors. Gnawed my lip. 25 minutes. Ring!

"Hey, you know, it's small. I could make you pay for a new coffee table, but why? Mine will get hold of a marker and color on someone's couch some day. It happens."

God bless the fact that I have a friend who, even though it was clearly not so much ok, was cool enough to play it off for me. I owe this girl a Starbucks and a spa pedicure. And a new coffee table.

your friend sounds like a lovely person with great taste and not tied to the materials in her home. i love your writing.

See, and if you had come to my house I would have HID the table because of all the scratches from my own offspring.

What a friend! =)

And if you came to my house, you would have no worries, because I don't even have a coffee table. I drink coffee, but no coffee table. And no damn Ethan Allen furniture in my house. My mom was addicted to Ethan Allen and I spent many weekend days in the playpen at Ethan Allen (yes they had a play area, like IKEA I guess) while she found the next perfect piece of EA furniture.

And we were not allowed to sit on the Ethan Allen furniture. Ever. It was, however, okay for the cats to shed on it and nibble the corners of the tables. Go figure.

Why, yes, I have issues, why do you ask? :)

Well - you know for a fact that I would have left the house and never called again - probably having to relocate to another state, but my kids would have done a lot more than scratch a table!

I'm glad you have a nice friend... and that you are such a nice friend!

hugs

het

I absolutely adore this story. My wife and I are three months short of having our first, and I find myself reading stories like yours and wondering how long until I too have to phone an embarrasiing apology into a friend.

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