NZR (Not Zumba Related) … Completely

This morning felt like a Saturday morning (even though it’s Friday).

I had the day off from work, and I knew I didn’t have to head to my classroom.

Mchalie (my three-year-old daughter) woke me up a little after dawn.

“Mom, I’m hungry, and I had a dream that three monsters were in my bedroom and they put  cinnamon in my mouth,” she explained, while pointing to her mouth and opening it.

“What?”  I said groggily.  “Monsters aren’t real.  Did you say cinnamon?”

“I hope I don’t have that dream again, mom.  The three monsters put cinnamon into my mouth,” she explained and pointed again.

“It’s just a dream,” I told her, a little more awake now.  “There aren’t any monsters in our house.  Monsters aren’t real.”

“Mom, can we go downstairs and have a picnic with string cheese and cereal?” she asked.

“Let’s have a picnic with eggs and fruit,” I told her, as we went downstairs to start our day.

The rest of the morning was “normal” – a “picnic” breakfast, princess play-time, baking a cake for Mchalie’s birthday (which was in September), prepping for Zumba, procrastinating doing the laundry, and so on.

At one point during the morning, I actually considered starting the laundry (the massive piles we create in one week).  I thought about how many towels we use in one week.  I convinced myself that we needed to get rid of all of our old towels (rags to the shed) and keep one or two good sets in the house and one good set for company. (This is relevant.  I promise.)

Remember the cake…the timer went off.  It was done.  I headed to the kitchen and took the cake out of the oven.  Pitter. Pat. Pitter. Pat. I think I hear a mouse in our kitchen ceiling; I thought I heard one last night when I went to bed; I should tell Ryan, but we never have mice…and in the kitchen ceiling? Wait, it sounds like it’s raining. That doesn’t make sense.  I wonder if the snow on the back roof backed up.  Oh no, I just used our upstairs bathroom, and the handle has been sticking, but I know I made sure the water wasn’t running.  I check every time!

Sprint to the second floor to the bathroom in record time.

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Every towel in the house is on the upstairs bathroom floor…and hallway floor.  I run to the linen closet, the basement sauna, the dirty clothes and grab every towel I can find to soak up the water that has accumulated on the bathroom floor and flooded into the hallway.  As I run downstairs to the basement to grab the mops, the water is pouring through the kitchen light fixture and the ceiling is starting to show lines of moisture where the water is traveling.

Both hands rush to my head and grab chunks of my hair, And I wanted to throw out all of the old towels in the house or bring them to the shed – this morning?  I don’t think that was a mouse in the ceiling last night either…

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So, how is this story related to Zumba?

Well, it is.  Yet, it isn’t.

I’m human.  And I’m not going to pretend that I’m not bothered by the fact that we’re going to be tearing into the kitchen (that I just painted and deep cleaned).

Yet, somehow, I didn’t really get my “feathers ruffled” today.

I’d rather think about how funny it would have been if someone had a camera as I ran around the house (and could listen to my thoughts) looking for towels and saying, “Oh gosh…oh gosh…” And Mchalie asking, “Should we call the police?  Is it an emergency?”

Sometimes, I wonder why it takes a lot to bother me. I think it’s because I was blessed with angels on Earth and now in Heaven (my Auntie Chrissie and my cousin, Justine)  that taught me that things like this…are just trivial.

And I think about our first Zumba baby, Quinn, and her strength and trials as I write. (Tomorrow’s blog features Quinn.)

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Tonight, I sit at home with my family and walk into a kitchen that is partially ruined, but I sit at home with my family.  We have our health, a warm house, a fridge that is full of food, etc.

So even though the kitchen ceiling is ruined and the snowblower broke tonight at 9 P.M. and Mchalie is worried that she will dream about monsters with cinnamon again ~ these are trivial things in the grand scheme of life.

I share my NZR (Not Zumba Related) story with you, not so that you can recognize that I am an annoying optimist, but, in hopes that you can see the humor in the trivial things that happen daily.

Oh, I would share a picture of the kitchen with you, but my camera broke last weekend.

Instead, I will share a picture of the girl who dreams of monsters with cinnamon from the wedding of our very own, Elaine, in October.

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3 thoughts on “NZR (Not Zumba Related) … Completely

  1. haha. reminds me of a book i’ve heard about: don’t sweat the small stuff–and it’s ALL small stuff! and, of course, having an attitude of gratitude is always helpful! 🙂

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