It was the Christmas after Beck was born. He was about 10 months old. I used to collect snowglobes, I don't so much anymore, but I have kept a few of my favorites. There were 2 Christmas ones, probably given to me by my Grandma Mimi, sitting on the coffee table next to a book about the Polar Express. Beck wasn't walking yet, but holding on to furniture and cruising around. I happened to be in the other room getting a drink and he was in the front room walking along holding on to the couch. I heard a crash and breaking glass. I ran into the front room and scooped up Beck. I ripped off my socks because they now had glass in them and ran into the kitchen to look over every inch of his body. He had picked up one snowglobe and dropped it onto the other breaking them both. There was glass and that watery sparkly stuff all over the front room. And I DIDN'T CARE. I was only worried about my poor babies's feet and hands and eyes. I knew that he was fine, he wasn't even crying, no blood, no scratches, and still I left the watery glass mess in the living room to love and rock him until he wasn't spooked anymore. It took a while to clean it all up and I had glitter everywhere for a while. When Stephen came home he threw something away in the garbage and saw my broken snowglobes and was very apologetic and asked if I was okay and if I wanted another one. I just shrugged and told him I was glad that Beck didn't get hurt. He was shocked. Not shocked that I cared more for my son, but shocked that I was okay that my snowglobes were lying in shattered pieces in the garbage!
In case you can't tell, I am usually quite anal about my stuff, more anal about stuff that I consider very important to me and my well being. It's not that those snowglobes were not beautiful, they were, and I loved them, it's just that now that I am a mom, they are not as important to me anymore. My babies are my world. I still get upset if I get throwup stain on my favorite shirt, or Beck rips a photo album (which picutres are NOW my favorite things) but I have learned that I WILL NOT DIE and the WORLD WILL KEEP TURNING as long as my babies are happy and healthy, it's okay if a piece of art gets water on it from a spilled sippy cup or my favorite flower vase gets broken. It's their smiles and laughter and their tears and their love that means more to me than anything in the world, oh and their daddy of course! :)