I sat on the toilet experiencing a strange sort of stage fright because my German Shepard was staring at me. It stormed outside so he’d become a permanent attachment to my hip. At the moment, his ears were down because I wouldn’t let him lay his head on my lap – some things are just not done. A boom from the thunderstorm outside flickered the lights and the big dog whined.
“Will you just get out,” I hissed at him. He inched closer.
I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore him when thunder crashed again. For an instant I thought I heard a metallic scrap. I looked at the dog. His ears perked up. That’s when the light fixture directly above me fell from the ceiling and landed on my lap. I jumped in my seat as the dog yelped and raced from the room.
Sitting in total darkness now, I heard my son call out from the other side of the cracked-open bathroom door. “Hey mom, the dog knocked one of the pictures off the wall ’cause he was running so fast down the stairs. Can you make me some numchucks out of my old soccer socks?”
Some moments just seem to define what it is to be a mom. Holding a broken light fixture while sitting on the toilet talking about homemade martial arts weapons – most definitely a mom-defining moment:)