Paddling Along

Some things never change.

 

When we first moved into our current house, the Princess was three and Banana Girl was six months old. About six weeks in, I was playing with Banana Girl on the floor and pulling her into a sitting position from lying down, when I heard a crack and she started screaming. Just as the wails got even louder, the Princess yelled, “Mommy, someone peed on the floor!” and my phone rang.

 

The phone call was from an old family friend, checking in to see how everything was going. Well, I’d just dislocated my daughter’s shoulder (the pediatrician assured me it happens all the time and not to worry, and yes, she was fine as soon as the doctor popped it back in), and the “pee” was my washing machine flooding the entire lower level—I think I would have preferred the pee. But sure, I told our friend, we’re doing great, how are you? 

 

I didn’t want to make a big deal out of anything, so I just pretended everything was fine. Because, you know, if you pretend hard enough, it will be true.

 

Fast forward to the other day. I’m on the phone trying to catch up with a friend—every time one of us calls the other one, we have to run to handle some crisis. At the same time, the exterminator shows up, because THIS time, we have a wasp’s nest in our attic vent that for SOME reason, our gutter guy didn’t want to touch. The exterminator needs to come into the house to access the hive, and all of a sudden I have to find my mask and figure out how to clear out the Princess’ closet enough for him to reach the attic, while at the same time, guarding against Covid. Banana Girl is in the process of driving through flooded roads and calls me to keep her calm—stop laughing. And in the meantime, the Princess is on the phone with a family friend (different one) arranging to be a tutor to their sons in the fall. They want to say hi to me, because for some reason, they like me. I love talking to them, but um, there’s a lot going on. 

 

So I hang up (again) on my friend, smile into the FaceTime call while moving stuff in the Princess’ closet and wondering if the bees get angry, how many will fly into her room and how loudly will she yell? I try to follow the FaceTime conversation while balancing my phone and reassuring Banana Girl that yes, she’ll know if her car breaks down because it will stop (or blow up, but I don’t tell her that), but next time, please don’t drive through the water on the road.

 

I’m pretty sure I touched my face at least five times, asphyxiated someone with the Lysol spray, and answered the totally wrong question posed by my family friends.

 

But, you know, I’m fine. We’re fine. It’s all fine.