If you are like me and have a 4-year-old who wears glasses, you probably are like me and visit the eye doctor's office for repairs, adjustments, etc more than you would like. The office is great---very nice, very helpful, and they have a little children's play area to keep my kids entertained while we wait. The only problem with said play area is that it's open to those working there trying to help people choose glasses, work out their payments, etc. My kids aren't known for being especially quiet, so the faster we can get in and out of there, the better. I was just there two weeks ago for Sidney's annual eye exam where she spent 20 minutes trying on every pair of children's frames in the place before ultimately choosing the first pair she tried on. I had hoped it was the last time I'd be in there for awhile, but not so...
Taylor had his annual eye exam yesterday and I scheduled it immediately after school thinking "hey, we'll already be out and in the car, it will kill some time after school, Stella will be occupied playing in the play area. Plus, Sidney needs to pick up her new glasses. Kill two birds with one stone! Great!"
I had about 20 minutes until I needed to leave to pick up the older kids from school and I'm hanging out with Stella and hear the (locked) front door open. This is not the first time in the last couple of weeks this has happened---a few Realtors forgot to call us to show our home and assumed it was vacant. I greeted the realtor at the door and if I didn't want to sell my house so badly, I would have told her to come back the next day, but alas, I do want to sell my house, so I told her to give me 15-20 minutes and then come back. I thought I was home free from any showings by this time of the day, so the house wasn't exactly ready. I raced frantically around the house cleaning up toys, lunch dishes, wiping up crumbs, and making a bed or two. By the time I make it out of the house and into the van I smell something funky and feel something damp. I look down and realize I've got some wicked pit stains on my orange shirt. Oh well, too late to change shirts or put on some more deodorant. I'll just try and keep my arms down.
I picked up Taylor and Sidney from school and instead of my usual a-little-disheveled-but-mostly-presentable kids picked up a couple of I-rolled-in-my-lunch-instead-of-eating-it-and-I'm-not-sure-any-of-the-marker-made-it-on-the-paper kids. No time to go home and change, so I think, "It's okay--they are clearly wearing their school uniforms so people will know they just got messy at school and we don't really live like pigs." I dole out snacks to eat on the way there and off we go.
We arrive and I unbuckle and lift Stella out of her car seat and smell something funky and feel something damp. Unfortunately, it was not just my armpits this time. No time to change her diaper b/c we are barely on time as it is, so we rush inside. After a few minutes I realize a diaper change can't wait a moment longer and I go out to the car with Stella. Her shorts are beyond wearable and she refuses to wear her shoes. I head back in with a red face and armpit stains, and a tank-top- and-a-diaper only toddler who won't wear shoes.. To add to the general trashy look she had going, she pulled the elastic out of her hair and now looks like a cockatoo or rooster (take your pick.)
Luckily Taylor was sent back to the eye doctor pretty quickly (but only after he crawled all over the floor chasing a train and making a racket) and I was left with the girls. Here I am with a cute 4-year-old with blue marker on her face, some big unidentifiable stains all over her powder blue polo and a toddler who looks a little bit like an orphan. Of course, this seems to be their busiest time of day and a parade of people are in and out of the place. Lots of moms come in with kids for eye exams. One little girl who looks about 5 comes in with her blond hair perfectly combed and with a headband with a big red bow on top and pretty much looks like she stepped out of a gymboree ad. She sits happily with her mother. Another little girl (maybe 5) and her brother (about 8) who are also school uniform clad, but clean and well groomed also arrive and play quietly and sweetly with the toys. I, pit stains and baby belly and all, chase the barefoot-diaper-clad toddler around the place while she tries to swipe every pair of frames conveniently displayed at her eye level while my disheveled Kindergartner tries to be the mom and chases her too.
I know if I was 'the other mom' watching this display I'd be chuckling and thinking 'ug, I hate days like that!' Maybe it was my own insecurity, but the looks on these mom's faces seemed to say "woman, get control of your life, get some clothes on your children, wash their clothes, and for heaven's sake, get some new anti-perspirant! And what on earth are you doing having another baby anyway?"
I guess it could have been much worse....I could have been the barefoot one...