This morning was the first time my girls were being left with their new babysitter. It was also only my second day back to work since the birth of my second daughter, Sosie. So it was my first morning of getting both girls ready to leave the house in the time crunch that is getting to work. To top it all, I had to be there 4 hours earlier than I normally would because we had a staff meeting.
Now, I am not organized at the best of times. But this morning was made exponentially worse by the fact that I hadn't packed the diaper bag the night before. Why not? Because before I could get to it, I got sucked in to watching LOST. And during LOST, Sosie fell asleep on my chest. And then I got sucked in to watching Parenthood. And then about halfway through our DVRed recording, my husband, Michael, tosses me the remote and tells me he's going to bed.
WTF? I say that out loud. "WTF?"
He's all, "What?"
I say, "Why did you even start Parenthood if you knew you were going to bed?" You see, Michael loves TV. I like TV, but I can take it or leave it. Especially since we have a DVR, and I can watch our shows whenever I want. Especially when I have THINGS TO DO that should not be put off until tomorrow. Because I am a Major Procrastinator. And I had argued against even sitting down to watch LOST because I had THINGS TO DO. Like packing the diaper bag. But I digress.
So he says, "I told you I have to be up early tomorrow."
I fume, "I told you that I had things to do!"
Him: "But you still sat down to watch LOST."
Me: "Because you badgered me! And the baby had to eat!"
Him: "And then you laid the recliner back and didn't get up again."
Me, defensively: "I got tired!"
Him, innocently: "Just do your stuff tomorrow."
Sigh. It is now 12:30 am. I am very tired. Tomorrow morning is not going to go well. And it is clearly his fault. Michael is frequently guilty of what I like to think of as "Procrastination Enabling." This is not his first offense.
Fast forward to this morning. I do not get up as early as I should. I try desperately to hurry my toddler, Scarlett, along as she gets dressed and eats some cereal. If you have experience with toddlers, you know how that worked out. Baby Sosie must be dressed, then fed. I need to leave the house, but Sosie hasn't finished her bottle. I cut her off and strap her into her carseat anyway, and she promptly spits up all over herself. Perfect.
It is ten minutes after we should have left. I have to shove the kids in the car and follow Mapquest directions to our new babysitter's house. I am not direction-savvy at the best of times. It is a certainty that I will make wrong turns. And I do. Three times. Even with MapQuest. And calling said babysitter to clarify MapQuest.
Even Scarlett notices something is up, after I have made my second wrong turn and turned around to go back the way we came. She asks me, "Where is Miss Babysitter?" I have coached her to call the babysitter "Miss FirstName." I think it's respectful without being schoolmarmy. Relaxed respect, if you will.
Me: "Mommy's trying her best to find her, sweetie." Notice the liberties I take with the word "best." Settin' the bar high, people!
We finally arrive at the babysitter's house at the exact time that the staff meeting should be starting. Which is exactly 30 minutes after the time at which I told Miss Babysitter to expect us. So instead of looking like the reliable, capable, good mother that I want to be, I look like a frazzled, unprepared, not-punctual mom with a spit-uppy baby. How to salvage this? My mind cranks like a P.O.S. car. I am not good "on-the-spot" at the best of times.
Miss Babysitter: "It wasn't that hard to find, was it?"
Me, blurtily: "Uh, no, I'm just a spaz." D'oh!
This is all. Michael's. Fault.
Or is it? Whhyyy do I let him talk me into procrastinating when I know how it will turn out? I'm enabling his enabling! Do they have support groups for that? Procastinators' Enablers' Enablers. Like AA, only... yeah.