My rant below was originally posted on Facebook on June 9, 2016. As it so accurately sums up a day in the life of raising twins, I wanted it to be published on Tablefor5 so that it can help me document this time in my life. Please enjoy again.
To the sleek, young, real estate broker who shared an elevator down to “level C” amenities with me this morning, I’d like to apologize. You see, before I glanced down in shame, I caught the look of horror as the elevator door slid open. I knew you were hoping to show your successful, rich, single client a much more glamorous type that could be his potential neighbor. I was almost going to hop off the elevator and let you all ride in without the discomfort. But then, I realized if only I could take a minute of your time and explain the “situation”.
You see, today was supposed to be my “catch up day”. It’s been a long week, actually a long month, but, I’ll get right to the point about my look this morning. My son wound up missing a few days of school, sick this week. We thought he was on the mend, after a trip to the doctor he mentioned he “felt better” and wanted to eat that second helping last night. Well, just as I was getting ready for bed after an already long day, the forces of nature weren’t having it. The poor guy got sick all over his bed, rug and bathroom. After what proved to be a long and tedious clean up, we managed to finally get to bed for a few short hours.
Did I mention that I also have 17 month old twins? Those little cuties decided to get up at 5:15 this morning! With my husband out the door early for a day trip, I was left to fend the 3 of them off myself. Well my girls can smell weakness a mile away. It didn’t take long before Maxine somehow managed to grab a pencil that her brother left lying around and write all over my walls and door. Literally almost at the very same time (they say identical have this weird connection), Laurel went into her dresser and took one of my favorite sweaters she owns (cute little bulldog on the front) and put it in the toilet bowl along with all the other contents of the bathroom garbage pail. Normally all of our bathroom doors are locked, but since Luca was under the weather, it must have slipped his mind.
I figured that was enough for one morning, but boy was I wrong. When I slipped quietly into my bedroom to get dressed (thank god I did this), I locked the door behind me to protect our printer, lamps and picture frames from attack. Well, the girls must have smelled blood because they immediately went into our hallway closet and somehow dragged out Luca’s heavy razor scooter. As I heard something gouging our floors and walls (they don’t call it a razor for nothing), I panicked thinking they were getting hurt. In my panic, I somehow shut the Master bedroom door before unlocking it ,and, due to the fact that the doorknob is broken and doesn’t have the “unlock hinge”, proceeded to lock myself out of my bedroom.
So, when I saw you earlier, I really didn’t have the chance to “get ready”, or even check myself in the mirror before heading downstairs in pursuit of a maintenance guy to help unlock the door. BOY, when I finally saw what you saw, I really understood that I may have screwed up your commission this morning. I just had to reach out, and, at the very least, explain myself.