Moving the Cup

And avoiding the spill

It’s a regular occurrence at our kitchen table for Leo to be telling some story or dream or something he remembers from his imagination, in between bites. As he does this, without thinking, I’ll move his cup from the edge of the table where he last placed it, to the middle of the table where it’s safer from hand gestures and him (or me because I’m pretty clumsy) reaching across the table for some nut butter. It’s an impulse that doesn’t interrupt his story or anything anyone is doing or thinking about. Just a subtle little act. One time he asked me why I do that and I explained to him what I just explained here - to avoid a mess and the start of a bad mood or worse, bad day. And now when he’s paying attention, he’ll move the cup.

I’ve been thinking about that imagery all year long. How sometimes we don’t want to move the things out of the way that we know might make us stumble. We leave it up to chance or the universe when it’s really as simple and innocent as moving a cup. I’ll get to that later. Clean that up another time. It will work itself out. But will it? I’ve been angry because I often times am the one who has to move the cup for others. I resent being the responsible one or the one who’s always looking out. In fact moving to San Antonio, was in many ways, taking a giant cup off the table all together, and it was physically and emotionally painful to be the one doing the lifting.

But I’ve come back to the innocence of something so simple as enjoying my son’s story while also avoiding a minor crisis in the form of a milk spill. As my dear friend Leah told me, “I’m sorry that other people’s actions become our responsibilities,” as she described someone crashing into your parked car; not your fault but now it’s your responsibility. We are meant to live and work and breathe together. It’s impossible for my actions to not have an affect on those around me and viceversa. It’s okay to be the one who moves the cup in advance or cleans up an unavoidable spill.

Being one step ahead, moving road blocks out of the way instead of trying to bulldoze through them, is not only an act of love to those around me, but it’s what I need as well. A real really huge tragedy happened when Leo accidentally broke the screen on his tablet. He was the most upset I’ve ever seen him. So sad and mad and just crushed. And in his fit, he said to me, “it should have been in a case.” Ouch. But yeah how could I trust a 4-year-old to never have an accident with a fragile electronic device? It was a mix of putting off buying one, forgetting the one I did buy in Mexico, naively trusting that he’d take care of it, and most of all just ignoring the potential problem all together. I just left that cup at the edge of the table.

We all need protection from potential pitfalls. We need to not have cake at home if we’re on a diet. Or not go to the bar if we’ve given up drinking. Or not sign a client with red flags. Or not push someone’s buttons we know will explode. We need a case around a tablet and to move the cup to the middle of the table. It’s the Blink philosophy, that you’re able to slow down time and make seemingly impulsive decisions because you have the personal data and experience to help you predict the future.

And it’s not something to feel a martyr about, as I sometimes do. Woe is me. I hate being so fucking responsible when everyone else is out there just spilling milk all over the place. But really, while it helps those around me prevent some innocent and some not-so-innocent accidents or downfalls, I’m protecting and loving myself. I’m keeping myself and my family safe by creating a future with less room to spill the cup. So call me a fortune teller if you must, but I’m going into the new year with a clean table, a padded tablet, and a newfound appreciation for being the one that’s looking out.