The best thing about working from home is my ability to shower.
Typically, I shower in the morning, before Big Daddy starts work. The little girls play in the master bedroom while Big Daddy gets dressed and I shower. After her is dressed, Big Daddy takes the little girls down stairs and I get dressed and make the bed if I’m feeling SUPER domestic (I’m not always, FYI).
Yesterday, though, my morning had run a bit late and I needed to take a shower mid-morning so I could not be THAT mom when I dropped Littlebit off at preschool. Big Daddy keeps his office door open and the girls run in and out while I’m showering. It’s a good set up.
But today I was upstairs, in the shower when I heard the thud and the subsequent wail. I tore out of the shower, skating carefully across the bathroom floor on my soaked feet. I skidded into the bedroom, wrapped a sheet around myself (we have a large window that overlooks the hallway outside of our bedroom and, let’s just say I don’t want to be THAT neighbor). In a matter of seconds after hearing the thud and wail, I was calling down to Big Daddy.
In some ways, being a Mom has slowed me down. There are things I no longer see any reason to hurry through. I never hurry and clean. There’s no bother. It will be a mess in a few minutes or hours. I never hurry up on walks. I bring up the rear to make sure our little ducklings stay in a safe little row. I slow down while doing tasks so little people can help, even if that means it’s taking double the time to get anything done.
But when that cry goes up, I’m faster than Superman.
Littlebit is fine. As far as we can tell, she fell off of the chair in the living room and probably onto her head. Pretty typical fare around these parts these days.