Today I had one of those "working at home" moments--the kind you miss if you work outside the house.
After she had what I call a "nope," meaning NO NAP, and also meaning "Mommy didn't get any work done because you weren't sleeping," Bitty Girl and I played outside for about four minutes (it was freezing) and then went inside for her bath. As we're coming out of the hair salon/Mom's bathroom, all dried and brushed, the phone rings.
Bitty Girl was in a good mood, so I said yes, I could talk on a speakerphone call with two work colleagues about some technical issue with the Annual Report. I put her down in the living room with her kitchen and tea party while I talked in the kitchen.
All goes well for a few minutes, then she patters into the kitchen with one of her dishes, wanting "ra-ra," or goldfish crackers, in one of her bowls. Still talking, I open the pantry and get her the crackers. In true Bitty Girl sneaky fashion, she slips past me, grabs a different bag of crackers--by the BOTTOM--and dumps the entire bag onto the kitchen floor. Oops. I keep talking as we start the cleanup, but as I bend down, I notice the telltale odor coming from her diaper. The kind that begs to be changed. immediately. I think this is where I started sweating.
It ended fine, we finished the call, she helped me sweep up the cracker pieces (after we put most of them back in the bag, of course, fuzz and all, but don't tell her brother), we changed the offending diaper and went back to our tea party.
I just laugh thinking of how easy this conversation would have been if I had been sitting in my office the whole time. Easy, more freshly-scented, with less sweeping and sweating involved. But not nearly as interesting to read. Definitely part of the crazy I signed up for when I decided to "work from home."
One of my favorite mama writers, Catherine Newman, wrote a (an?) hysterical blog post about that, here. In my dreams, I could rewrite today's episode and make it that funny.