I’m racing around the house trying to find a jacket, so Franny and I can get to the library in time for story hour when I hear someone ringing the doorbell.
All hell breaks loose. The pugs are barking and scratching at the front door in hopes of finding a pizza delivery on the other side of the door. Franny is screaming because, well, she’s a toddler and they don’t need reasons to scream. It’s just their job.
I finally get things settled down enough to open the door to find a Comcast tech who needs access to our backyard to fix connection issues for the neighborhood. I track down the key to the gate to let him in and he looks at me with the kindest eyes and says, “I think you’ve earned your morning drink with that chaos. What’s that saying, for every baby cry do a shot of whiskey?”
It took every ounce of self control not to grab a bottle of whiskey and do shots in the backyard with him. Had I not left Franny alone in the house with the pugs, I might have… but today isn’t the day to make sure the pugs make good nannies.
I laugh and thank him for encouraging motherhood inspired alcoholism. I walk back inside to make sure my lovable chaos is still intact.. and truthfully, to make sure I have whiskey for 5PM. I suspect I’m gonna need it.