I am mad at my front porch.
Front porches are supposed to be welcoming, inviting places that are the first impression of your home.
Or so I've been told.
Mine, however, is not so inviting.
I don't know why, but it's always filthy. I sweep it, every now and then, but in the blink of an eye, it's dirty again. I mean, how often are you supposed to sweep a porch? ( Seriously, I'm curious, how often do YOU clean your porches? ) It is a covered porch for crying out loud, it shouldn't get so dirty! Maybe it's the way the house faces (south), or maybe it's because of the trees that surround it (that's my husbands explanation), I just don't know. What I do know, is that my front porch has been a thorn in my side since we moved into this house as 22 year old newlyweds.
The dirt isn't the only reason I have issues with my porch...
Almost three years ago, I was picking up toys left on the porch by three year old Ellie. Ellie had given up on outside play, and was inside watching cartoons. Sweet Annie, who had just had her first birthday, was taking a nap. I talked on the phone to my mom as I picked up bubble wands and sidewalk chalk. I didn't realize how close to the edge I had gotten, and as I stood up from my bent over position, I got a bit dizzy and lost my balance. I remember flailing, trying to find something, anything to grab, but there was nothing. I fell backwards, head over heels, or was it heels over head? I'm not sure how many rotations I made, I just know I landed at the bottom of several concrete steps with a thud. I remember covering my head with my arms, in hopes that I wouldn't sustain a serious brain injury. My poor brain already didn't work well, what with the two babies and all, I was pretty sure it couldn't handle a concussion. I remember lying there, taking inventory...Okay, I'm awake. I hurt. What exactly hurts? I'm breathing, that's a good sign. Ellie! Where's Ellie? Oh right, in the house. Mom! She's still on the phone. Where's the phone? I hurt. I'm not sure if I can get up. Maybe if I yell for Ellie, she'll come out and bring me the phone. So I yelled at the top of my lungs for Ellie... and then I learned that you just can't count on a three year old. I finally managed to get up, and get to the phone that was three steps up. Mom was still on the line, worried sick since she could hear me yelling. She was just about to hang up and drive the 30 miles to get to me. She asked me if I was okay, and I told her I wasn't sure. I was pretty shaken up. I knew I hurt, but was having a hard time focusing on exactly what hurt. I hung up with my mom, and within a few minutes realized that I couldn't move my left arm without excruciating pain. After a trip to the doctor and some x-rays, I came home sporting a bright purple cast, in a blue sling.
I will never forget what Ellie said...
Mommy! I love your purple cactus and your blue purse!
At least someone did.
I only had to wear my purple cactus for three weeks. My arm was fractured on the inside of my elbow, and it healed quickly. Still, three weeks was a long time for a mommy of a three year old and a one year old. Oh, and in case you were wondering, Why purple? It was the only color of casting they had left.
So there you have it. My issues with my front porch. It's long and narrow, it gets dirty, it has lots of wide concrete steps that in my opinion are dangerous, and it broke my arm.
Can people go to counseling to come to terms with a bad front porch?