Scarlett had her four month check up this morning at twenty til ten. It was going to be my first planned trip out of the house with both monkeys, alone. It seemed simple enough: load kids in van, drive to office, do appointment, load kids again, drive home. Direct. Simple.
I really don't know how mothers of more than two go anywhere by themselves. Hell, I don't know how mothers of two do it. (I am considering failing my next driver's license exam so that I will have to be chauffeured everywhere.) I got up at 7 am and it took everything I had to leave the house by 9:20 am. That was after I sacrificed my shower, hair and breakfast.
We arrived only 10 minutes late. I hate being late. I dislike waiting on people who are late. I need to suck it up, because, I can never make anywhere on time anymore. It is driving me crazy. I unloaded my crew, bulging diaper bag over one shoulder, Aveline on my left hip and Scarlett's carrier in my right hand. Nearly fifty pounds of baby baggage thundering toward the door. I had to be a sight. I negotiated the two doors leading into the waiting room, sheepishly avoiding the receptionists scolding glare. I hate being late. I signed in and herded my entourage to a secluded corner. Proud that I had survived the first running of the gauntlet, I settled into a seat to watch Aveline play on the slide. It was then when I noticed my fly had been down the entire time, exposing my brightly colored unmentionables.