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.
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.
Posted by m/p | 4:47 PM
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
Posted by Het | 7:37 PM
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.
Posted by kevin black | 11:47 AM