Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Flying Solo

Last night I was flying solo - hubby had to work late. You would think after being home alone with my child for first three months of her life that I would have no problem spending two hours at the end of the day with her. Wrong. Yesterday at work was hectic, true - but there aren't many days there anymore that aren't. I left work, went to pick up Coco at her care provider's and headed home. I pulled into the garage with a softly sleeping child in the backseat and could instantly hear our lab (see photo lower right) barking his fool head off from his basement kennel. I got out, wrangled baby out of the carseat base, grabbed her diaper bag and slung it over my arm, closed the back car door softly, opened the passenger side front door, grabbed my purse and briefcase containing my laptop, pushed the door shut with my hip, wrangled my way around the rear of the car and into the house. Baby was still sleeping. Yay me. I walked in, kicked off my heels, dropped the briefcase and purse inside the doorway in the front hall, tripped over my heels, steadied myself, took little one into the living room, dropped the diaper bag on the carpet, and gingerly placed the carseat on the couch. Still all good. Then the dog realized I was inside.

bark bark bark bark. I yell-whispered something at the dog I can't repeat here and bolted downstairs to get him out of his kennel. He raced upstairs, loudly lapped up enough water to fill an Olympic-sized pool, ran a hot lap around the house and then straight to the door to go out. I gladly kicked the dog out and closed the sliding door. Ahhhhh - quiet... rest.... Lovely. Then it hit me - I had to change out of my suit and needed to do that before scoots woke up (once she wakes up and finds herself a prisioner of the car seat, well lets just say her patience is not infinite). To do so I'd have to leave the dog outside - he was still choosing his spot like it was a matter of national importance. So I turned and raced up the stairs, undressing along the way - threw my suit coat, shirt and pants on my bed in a pile, grabbed my sweatpants and pulled them on, grabbed the nearest warm shirt I could find (a fleece) and put it on over my head and grabbed a pair of socks - no time to put them on.... I had to pee.

I ran to the bathroom all the while keeping my sonar on for the first waking whimper. I plopped down, started to do what I needed to do while at the same time putting on my socks. Once I got the right one on I realized I had dropped the left one somewhere between the bed and the bathroom. Crap. Ok, so I was hurriedly "finishing up" and stood up to flush - I then realized that something was very wrong with either our toilet or our toilet paper.... everything was white. As I looked closer I realized I had not dropped my missing sock on the floor after all. Oh no. In my rush, I had apparently dropped it on in as I sat down. I had peed on my sock. My new socks. I just got them for Christmas. My only decent white pair. I debated for a second how much damage would be done if I just flushed it. Hmmmm 1972 plumbing = not a good idea. I had no choice. I didn't have time to go downstairs and get tongs, or chopsticks or any other aid. I reached in, grabbed the offensive garment and flung it into the sink faster than I've ever moved in my life. There may have been some pee fallout. I didn't care. This was Hubby's bathroom - not mine. (yes I am evil). I plugged the sink and filled it with water just in time to hear the first protesting wail from downstairs on the living room couch. I slathered on the Purell and took off for the source to free a little body from carseat jail.

Luckily about that time hubby called and let me know things went ahead of schedule and that he'd be home in 30 minutes. He was so excited he'd get to see both his girls that night and not miss putting Coco to bed. Who was I to ruin his happiness with warnings about what transpired in his bathroom? That would just be cruel.

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