We went to nannys for the weekend. Nannys with tons of relatives is great for me. My constant vigil can be foisted off in parts on the other family members. Unfortunately it also means that the weekend chores get compressed into Friday and Monday. That would explain why, in the midst of trying to consume coffee, do laundry, vacume the living room, and deal with whatever landed on the desk of my secret alter ego (sexy working woman), Cora walked out into the hallway without pants on, rubbing something into her hair.
I know what you are thinking. It wasn't (Thank GOD) lotion, but baby soap. She knew it too, because as she massaged it in, she said "take bath". The fact that her panties were missing due to a potty training accident assured that she got one immediately.
Cora loves baths. She hates cold water poured on her head. With dishes and laundry, the bathwater for the impromptu fill started luke warm.
I got ready to rinse her hair. I put the baby down. The baby screamed. I began to rinse. She tried to stand up. I stopped her. She struggled, and started crying. I gave her a hug to sooth her. I was officially soaked. I stripped off my shirt and pants, explaining to her why I must do this to her.
I poured. She sprang up, desperate to escape the cold torture chamber. She was sobbing. Her feet slipped, and I caught her, my grip communicating fear, anger and frustration. I yelled at her for standing in the tub. The baby's voice rose to an almost brittle octave. Coras sobs began to make her hyperventilate, and there was still soap in her hair.
I poured, forced her down again, poured again. There was still soap in her hair, but I was done. I wrapped the only dry towel around a goose bump covered sobbing two year old, ignoring my own dampness. I picked her up and tossed her on her bed. I retrieved a screaming infant, soaking her. She screamed harder. My phone rang.
It was for my sexy alter ego. I didn't answer it. Voice mail is infinitely better than pretending to be important with two screaming children in the background.
Instead, I laid down next to the naked sobbing two year old, with the soaked screaming baby on my chest, wearing only undercloths, and proceeded to cry with them. Next time we go to Nannys, sexy working woman is taking the day after off. Maybe I can too...