Tonight, while Husband was still at work, I was going about my usual evening routine consisting of:
1. Looking a hot mess while
2. Yelling at and chasing after half-dressed little boys, and
3. Praying out loud things like “Lord, help me get through the next two hours,”
4. And wishing I could hide somewhere with a bottle of whiskey.
ONE had stripped down to his underwear, I looked like a half-price hooker, and TWO was completely naked because I had just plunked him into the tub. Right when I pulled out the shampoo, ONE ran into the bathroom and shouted, “There’s an old lady at the door!” and I said, “Oh?“ and went about my business. He asked if he could let her in and I said NO and then asked him which door she was at. He said the back door. I explained I couldn’t answer it right now, but I was sure she will leave a note or come back later or something.
He then ran back to the kitchen presumably to shout through the door “My mommy says you have to go away” or something equally embarrassing, and …
I heard him yell, “SHE’S IN OUR HOUSE!”
At that point I scooped up a soaking wet, 30-pound toddler and ran into the kitchen to find my next-door neighbor standing in the middle of my home. Now, this is kind of sad, but she has dementia. She came over to tell me she got some packages at her house that had baby clothes in them and realized they didn’t belong to her when she opened them, so she came to tell me. And the door was unlocked … so … there she was. Right there. In my house.
I said thank you and I will get them as soon as possible and thank you again and I hoped she would have a good evening, but … she has dementia, you see. So she didn’t leave. She talked to my naked children instead, which is understandable.
As TWO got heavier and heavier, and my pregnant back and arms started to really hurt (I couldn’t put him down since he was wet and would slip on the tile), I very kindly steered her out and assured her I’d come by to get the packages as soon as I had a chance.
Then I locked the door.
I returned to what I was doing and had just put TWO in his crib and was — of course — on the toilet peeing when ONE came rocketing down the hallway yelling “She‘s back!!!” And indeed she was, this time with the packages. My thoughtful Aunt Nancy from Alabama mailed some little girl clothes for THREE.
Someday when she is older I will tell her the story of The Hard-Won Frilly Clothes and how important it is to always, always lock her doors.