If you knock on my door in the morning, bring muffins and I’ll be your friend


Someone was knocking at the door.  Not a Tap, tap are you guys awake yet?  but a Knock, knock I mean business.  (They’re doing road work on my block and I already knew what someone was knocking about.)

Before I go on, if you happen to be one of those super-organized parents who have it all together every morning all I can say is PLEASE, come over and train me.

Not dressed, of course, as I’m very slow in the morning and not usually sweet nor cuddly , I scrambled to pull on my robe.  The only robe I own, which is kind of a thin, worn, pathetic-looking robe that I’ve had since my stay in the hospital when I had my son.  I peaked through the window at the top of the door to see a non-threatening construction worker type man outside.  (Although serial killers come in all forms.)  I opened the door.

“Are you kidding me?  I was on the toilet!”  I shouted.

Ha!  Imagine if I really said that?  What I actually said politely was…


“I’m sorry to bother you,” he said and he  looked genuinely sorry that he was at my door to bug me.   “I have to ask you to move your car.  Once we start up today you won’t be able to get out until after 5pm.”

My face must have either reddened or scowled or something else unpleasant, “Right now?”

“Yes,” he said sympathetically.

“Ok, ok. Just a minute.  I have to get my kids in the car so I’ll be a minute,”  I said and closed the door.

“Fuck,”  I grumbled to myself.

Madeleine was at my feet, “Mommy, you said the F-word.”

“Thank you, Madeleine.  Ok, everyone!  Hurry, hurry!  We have to go.”

“Where?  What’s going on?”  Luke asked.

“I have to move the car.”

“You have to move the car?!  Where?!  Why?!”

“Please, just come here and get your shoes on.”

Luke looked nervous, “Wait!  I have to get my toys!  I didn’t finish my waffle!”

“We’re coming back!”

There was another knock at the door.

“Are you serious!  What now?”   I said as I charged toward the door.

It was the nice man again.   “Would you like me to move your car for you?”

He must have heard my explative after the first time I shut the door in his face, and probably felt bad that I looked frazzled to begin with.  Now I felt like a creep.

“Thank you, it’s fine.  I’ll be right there.  Thank you,”  I closed the door again, not really sure why I didn’t take him up on his kind offer.

I suddenly realized that I was overstimulating myself, as well as my excitable son.  And I had a touch of potty mouth.

I schlepped them into the car, got them buckled into their seats and felt eyes on my back.  The road crew and the nice man were patiently waiting for me to get the hell out of their way so they could begin their day.  There was another man in an excavator (which looks exactly like a life-sized version of Luke’s toy trucks).  Everyone was patient and pleasant, no one was frazzled.

So it’s just me then.

This entry was published on July 3, 2013 at 3:30 am. It’s filed under Kids and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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