All's Well That Ends Well (Aberdeen - 2008)

It's been a bad day.
Please don't take a picture.
It's been a bad day.
Please.

~ R.E.M., Bad Day

Ding-dong.

The front doorbell rang and I was not answering it.

It was about 6:30 PM and my two-and-a-half-year-old and I were home alone. I was on my knees, a wad of paper towels in my hand and a role at my side, frantically working to soak up the blackened water spewed across the rug.

Lulu thought she was saved by the bell, more than ready to escape the scene of the accident to answer the front door. I told her in a no uncertain tone to "Stay here," a couple of "You're in big trouble Missy" looks later adding, "No-no Lulu. You paint only on the table, not on the floor. The water glass stays on the table. Do you understand?"

"Oh-oh. I sorry Daddy" she mumbled, looking down at the dark blotches.

Ding-dong. The doorbell rang again.

Who was at the door? I didn't know, and didn't care. I had a rug to save. About a minute earlier Lulu kicked over the glass of yuckety-muckety paint water on an expensive Persian rug . Why the glass was on the floor? I don't know. How we let that interior designer lady talk us into buying a very expensive wool rug for under the kitchen table? I don't know that either -- I just work here. I do know I should have purchased the "Brawny Man" big roll instead of the wimpy generic "on-sale" roll.  For absorption's sake, I at least should have gone with the 2-ply.

Ding-dong. The damn doorbell rang again.

I thought it had to be either my six-year-old being too lazy to walk around to the garage, a little friend of hers looking to play, or the Omaha Steaks guy. Who else would ring the doorbell three times?

Wanting desperately to flee, Lulu looked towards the front hall entrance and back at me. She never so wanted to answer a door in her entire life.

"You stay right here." I reminded her.

A few moments later the phone rang. The ringtone "It Keeps You Runnin'" by the Doobie Brothers played on the wireless handset nearest me (a befitting ringtone for the day I was having) . Within reach, I picked it up and looked at caller-ID. It was a cellular call from a hazily familiar local number. Who was this?

I reluctantly hit the "talk" button and in a short "this better be good" tone said, "Hello."

A slightly distressed female voice said, "Hello Mr. Butler. This is Yong Chung. I am at your front door and your garage door is open and it looks like your home but . . ."

Shit! Piano lessons! I forgot about piano lessons!

"Oh, I'm so sorry Mrs. Chung! I'll be right there!"

The piano teacher was at the front door and I had no kids to give her.

I jumped to my feet blowing by Lulu to get to the door. I apologized to Mrs. Chung for leaving her waiting and quickly explained we were in a state of rug emergency - threat level red (a severe risk of stainage). Before I finished babbling, I noticed Mrs. Chung's attention diverted to something behind me. I turned to see Lulu standing in the entrance hallway licking a container of Marshmallow Fluff like it was some freakish lollipop. Oh that's just great. I excused myself and snatched-up Lulu, setting her in the Family Room before disappearing with the Fluff back into the Kitchen.

I needed to get a kid home, and fast.

The spots on the rug were looking better but not good. They had gone from black to gray. I had five bottles of tonic water in the pantry, but of course no club soda for the stain (you can't make Gin & Tonics with club soda). Instead I grabbed a jug of white vinegar and poured it on the ashen stains. Again pressing paper towels to rug, I called a neighbor in search of Jessie. Damn! I got voicemail. I hit redial. Damn! Voicemail again. I know Jessie is there and that they are home. Come on, pick-up! Redial. Voicemail. Nottafinga!

With Lulu playing with puzzles quietly in the Family Room and Mrs. Chung waiting in the Living Room, I took matters in my own hands. I figured I could run to the neighbors house two doors down and back before anyone even knew I was gone. Drastic times call for drastic measures and this was obviously drastic times.

I stealthily made my way to the door to the garage. Once out, in Forrest Gump-like form I took off running -- sprinting out the garage, across the driveway, and through the neighbors front lawn.

As I cleared my neighbors front yard I spotted Lauren in the distance on a swing set with her girlfriends.

I stopped and yelled, "Lauren! Get home! You have piano lessons! Run!"

Lauren acknowledged me with, "But Dad . . ."

That's all I needed to hear, I turned and Gumped it back home. Upon entering the house I expected to hear Lulu crying "Daddy!" But thankfully I was met only with the sound of Little Bear's voice coming from the television. Upon entering the Kitchen, I could see Lulu hadn't moved in the minute I was gone [Writer's Note: time frame added for concerned readers and child welfare investigators]. Mission accomplished.

The spot on the rug was "the pee on the toilet seat" on what was amounting to a bad day. Other developments since 3:00 PM:

• Picked Lauren up from the orthodontist where I wrote a $4,821.25 check for braces she not only hates but according to "her friends," she also doesn't need. (Note: an Oreo Blizzard from Dairy Queen on the way home didn't make things any better for her -- although I think Jessie seemed a little happier).
  

• Lulu escaped from the house not once, but twice. The first time falling in a puddle while making a mad dash for our playset. The second time, dressed only in red crocs, a diaper, and Mickey Mouse t-shirt, I caught her before getting to the backyard of my neighbors house (in route to a playset two doors down).

• Protesting an empty food bowl, Buck (the dog) put a whoopin' on his water and food bowl -- spilling water on the tile floor of the laundry room.  I was out of his special GasteroENteric (anti-diarrhea) dog food, and didn't want to leave to get it until UPS came with Elizabeth's Mother's Day present (a portable GPS if you must know).

• UPS arrived at about 5:30 PM with the box containing Elizabeth's gift absolutely demolished. I had no choice but to refuse it. As if he thought it would make me feel better, Mr. Brown told me "I know it was not like this yesterday." Thanks Brown.  I did not have a gift for Elizabeth, and Mother's Day was just two days away. (Although, I did have a "soaker" from stepping in Buck's spilled water when answering the side door.)

In a matter of three hours the day had gone down hill fast.  I also went from a leading candidate for Daddy Blogger's Father of the Year, to an anonymous hotline tip away from a visit by the Illinois Department of Children and Family Services.

Things could only get better, and they did . . .

Lauren came home seconds later and the neighbors eventually picked-up the phone and sent Jessie home.     

The white vinegar appeared to do the trick on the stains.  

Buck was later satisfied with a bowl of Honeynut Cheerios. 

Lauren seemed to be over the initial shock of having braces.  

I told Elizabeth that due to circumstances beyond my control she would not be getting a gift on Mother's Day, as expected she was understanding.

Like the Shakespearean play, All's Well That Ends Well, there are times when the line between comedy and tragedy is blurred.   The same can be said when trying to classify a good day versus bad.

  

And there are times when "all's well that ends well" pretty much just sums it up.  You know?  Maybe it wasn't such a bad day after all.  

"If you don't think every day is a good day, just try missing one." ~ Cavett Robert