I told my husband he’s never allowed to go business travel ever again. EVER. Because something always happens while he’s gone that I am not equipped to deal with don’t want to handle.
First, the boys clogged a toilet.
Another trip another toilet.
Then the basement flooded. A foot or so of water.
That’s not even the worst. Okay, technically, it was the worst because stuff was ruined, and it was expensive to fix.
The worst was…
A flippin’ bat in our bedroom in the around 5 AM.
I wish I had reacted like this:
I reacted like this:
Please just don’t get in my hair.
I screamed “I’m don’t want to be a vampire anymore!” (a whisper scream because Scout’s room is right across the room from ours and waking the baby is never an option) and ran out of the room. I did pause to pull Scout’s bedroom door shut (read: motherly instinct to save the baby).
In my panic, I did have some coherent thoughts, such as…
Vampires don’t like light, so turn on all the lights!
Maybe the bat is Bill Compton, and I can reason with him.
Isn’t a bat just a mouse with wings? Maybe Esme Kitty will catch it. (The answer is no. My lazy cat will not catch it. Black cats don’t catch other evil creatures because they’re on the same team.)
Yes, that’s right. Even women in their mid-30s need their dads sometimes.
Then the bat flew into the living room. I couldn’t wait for my dad, and I had to take matters into my own hands.
With a few Mission Impossible-esque somersaults, I made it to the front and back doors and opened them. After 5 minutes of taking cover from a bat that didn’t like ceiling fans and more whispering screaming from me, the bat finally made it outside.
A few years ago I dreaded going out on Mother’s Day. Miscarriages will do that to you. People assume you’re a mother and then you break down crying and the well-wisher assumes all mothers are crazy and becomes sympathetic to Norman Bates.
Or maybe you’re like me years before that and have a boyfriend who takes forever to propose and when people wish you a “Happy Mother’s Day!” your response is “I’ll never have kids!”
Anyways…the point is there is only one safe way to wish someone a “Happy Mother’s Day!” And it happened to me a few years ago.
Other Person: You’re not a mother, are you? You don’t look old enough to have kids.
I looked plenty old enough to have kids, but still…Best words ever. Then he continued:
Other Person: Well, maybe next year I’ll wish you a Happy Mother’s Day.
Happy Mother’s Day to all you mothers out there! And if you’re not a mother yet, maybe next year will be your year. Besides you don’t look old enough to have kids anyway. Do you even have your driver’s license yet?
I can’t remember exactly how it started, but I think when Scout was a couple months old, we started blowing raspberries to her while she was having her diaper changed. It distracted her and kept her from fussing.
Then one day she blew one back at me. So I blew one at her again. And she blew one back at me. And this went on for 5 minutes or so.
Thoughtsy: It’s like she’s trying to communicate!
It was funny.
Until one day, it wasn’t.
Complete Stranger in Line Behind Us at Target: Awwww…your baby is so cute!
Awesome. Just awesome. What a rude little baby. At least she’s cute.