After a very long commute home, I walk in the door at 6 pm. I find a kitchen flooded in dog pee, a coloring book IN the dog pee, a 64 pack of crayons shredded/chewed and all over the living room, and a murdered stegosaurus in pieces all over the rug. At 6:05 pm, my poor mother-in-law walks in with my bare foot 3 year old and red faced 9 month old. She can’t find either of their shoes… She tells me about how 9 month old dumped her coffee in her purse, at the market- and how 3 year old decided to open the bag of pretzels before she paid for them, and spilled them all over the floor.
I proceed to lock the front door, walk upstairs still in my work clothes, still having a flooded kitchen, still with a very messy living room- to try to get the baby to bed. I do not hear the doorbell, and decide it’s a good idea to yell at the top of my lungs for everyone else to be quiet. I realize, at 6:15 pm, that there is someone at the door. My 72 year old neighbor decided NOW is a good time to bring over an ice cream mud pie for my husband. It is not a good time.
After opening the door, with a half-naked, hungry, tired baby on my hip- my neighbor tells me he’s just going to put the mud pie on my counter. My three year old is bouncing off the walls, jumping on the couch. My basset hound nearly takes him out, and our Christmas tree, on the way to the kitchen. I tell him, “Be careful, the floor is wet!” I don’t mention why…
Then I finally feed the baby, change the baby, and get out of my work clothes. 6:30 pm- my husband walks in, takes one look at me and says, “What’s wrong?”
And it’s only Monday!!