I just survived the month of July, which was pretty intense around our house. Three camps for the kids, VBS, Chris’s big work project, swimming lessons (which are ongoing), and the completion of my two summer classes for my teaching certificate. Busy, busy, busy. This is the first week where we don’t have things to do every single day, and I am prepared to enjoy every minute of it. Apparently, though, my brain has decided it has earned a vacation because today it was nowhere to be found.
Both kids had routine doctors appointments today at 2:00pm. We spent the morning just laying around. The kids played while I got caught up on some blog bizzzniss and laundry (always the laundry…). I let them skip naps because I knew if I laid them down, I’d just have to wake them up for their appointment. You know that saying, “Never wake a sleeping baby?” It has nothing on the saying, “Don’t EVER, under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES wake a sleeping toddler.” It’s like waking bears.
This meant that from the 1:00 hour until the time of their appointment, the kids were fit to be tied. They were tired and cranky and rambunctious. By the time I finally ushered them out the door, I was a sweaty, hot mess.
(And can I pause here and say that it has been ESPECIALLY humidly awful here in central Florida this summer? I mean, I know it’s summer and all, but it is MISERABLE here. Walking to the mailbox means you need a shower when you get back to the house.)
I learned today that taking a one-year-old and a three-year-old to the doctor at the same time by yourself is ridiculous. I say that every time we go to the doctor, and then the next time I book the exact same situation all over again. Ugh! Let me see if I can explain to you the chaos that is two small children in a small room with needles… It would be similar to… well… the ninth circle of hell perhaps? That’s about the only comparison I can draw.
To keep Bean entertained while it was Gracie’s turn, I hastily threw my phone at him before turning back to hold Gracie down for her shots. Somewhere in all the commotion, I heard a nurse yell out, “HE’S CALLING SOMEONE!” and I yelled back, “THERE’S NO TIME! HOLD THE TINY ONE! HOLD THE TINY ONE!”
Later, after the dust had settled, both children had been sufficiently vaccinated, and we were back in my car, I looked at my phone to find that Bean hadn’t actually called anyone. He had answered someone’s call. Twice. As I looked at my phone, it rang again with the same strange number. I answered.
“Hi,” a high school girl’s voice said, “Do you have a dog named Lucy?”
“Well, I think she got out. Cause she’s sitting in my car right now.”
Turns out, the girl lived TWO NEIGHBORHOODS AWAY. She had pulled into her driveway, opened her door to get out, and my super unfriendly little Lucy jumped right into her car. Scared the girl to death.
As I flew home to save my dog, I tried to remember what I had done when I left the house. Did I leave the backdoor unlocked? Did I leave the gate open? Did I leave the garage door up? And then my mind began to run wild. Did someone break a window and come in? Did someone open the backdoor and let the dogs out? Did someone open the back gate and let the dogs out? What exactly was going on at my house?!?!?
I grabbed Lucy from the very kind, far-away neighbor, and headed home to see about Big Molly. The first thing I noticed was the back gate open.
And no big, fat headed black lab in the yard.
I called around in the house, but there was no Big Molly. So, I ran out into the front yard and started calling her. She likes us more than Lucy does, so she usually doesn’t go far when she gets out. After a couple minutes, I heard her bark one time. And it sounded close. Like, really close. Like, IN MY GARAGE.
Yep. In a matter of minutes in the mass chaos of getting the kids out the door, I managed to lock Lucy out of the house and lock Molly inside the garage. (Don’t worry – our garage is somewhat air conditioned and very cool in the summer. Thank goodness! Because that could have gone very badly, very quickly in this summer heat.)
I hate to say this, but moments like this have happened to me ALL SUMMER LONG. Which leads me to the conclusion that it is safer for my children (and my dogs) if I am a working mom. Clearly, I am not capable of caring for those that I am responsible for, and should not be trusted for long periods of time with people and animals in my care. Also, I should teach Molly how to do laundry. If she’s going to be locked out in the garage, she could at least do a load of whites…