How to achieve the perfect raccoon eye.

On Wednesday afternoon, Number 7 had woken up from her nap, but she was still up in her crib.

Everyone was home from school, and I just wanted to empty the dishwasher before I went and got her.

At almost 18 months old, she is in the g0-straight-for-the-knives-in-the-dishwasher-when-you-are-trying-to-unload-it phase.

But she was kind of crying.

So I asked Number 4 to just go up and keep her occupied for a couple minutes while I put the dishes away.

Number 4’s idea of occupying Number 7 was to shut the door, take Number 7 out of her crib, give her an open jar of Aquaphor, and have a free-for-all in her room.

Let’s just say that room will never be completely grease-free.

Somehow large amounts of Aquaphor ended up not only on both cribs, the walls, the rocking chair, and the rug, but also in Number 4’s hair.

Large amounts.

I told Number 4 she needed to take a bath before she went to bed.

But I went to the Y that night and wasn’t around during bathtime.

I think she could have used a little more shampoo.

I’m not sure she even used any, to be honest.

But I didn’t discover this until about 10 minutes before her bus was supposed to come when I was brushing her hair.

So we opted for a ponytail.

Yesterday there was a substitute bus driver, and the bus came a couple  minutes earlier than usual.

We weren’t outside yet.

Miss P would have honked the horn.

But not this chick.

So as we walked out the door, we saw that the bus had just passed our house, and it was driving down the road.

Shit.

Getting Number 3, 4, and 5 to school on time now was going to take some serious strategical planning.

And rushing.

My dad was already here to help, so while I got my stuff ready for the Y, he got Number 3, 4, and 5 in the car and made sure they were buckled and good to go.

Meanwhile, I got my gym clothes on, threw my swim stuff in my backpack, brushed my teeth, made a peanut butter sandwich, got a cup of coffee, and ran out to the car.

We made it to Number 4’s school just in time.

Her school has a pretty strict drop-off procedure.

Your child must be sitting on the driver’s side of  the car.

You pull around the side of the building, and a teacher opens the car door and helps your kid out.

You don’t get out, or get their bag for them, or give them a hug or a kiss.

You just say goodbye as your kid is whisked out of the car and into the building.

It’s a pretty well-oiled machine.

Since we were rushing and Number 4 was sitting right behind me, I didn’t even see her face after she had left the house to get in the car.

Fast forward to 3:40 when she got home from school.

I stood in the doorway as the bus pulled up to the driveway.

Number 4 got off the bus but was taking forever to make her way to the house.

It was really windy and cold out yesterday, so I closed the door and went into the kitchen while she meandered up the sidewalk.

When she came inside, she went straight to the mudroom, took off her coat and shoes, hung up her backpack, and then came in and sat on a stool, ready for her snack.

I looked at her for the first time since she had left the house that morning.

Ho.

Lee.

Shit.

She looked like a 20 dollar hooker at the tail end of a 72 hour meth binge.

The ponytail was gone.

And,

well,

her Aquaphor soaked hair looked pretty much exactly like,

um,

this…

But the hair wasn’t the only thing.

You know how the kids were out in the car that morning while I was getting all my shit together?

Well Number 4 spotted some mascara in the car.

Not one to miss out on an opportunity, she applied several coats of L’oreal Voluminous while she was waiting.

Several liberal coats.

I never even noticed.

By the time she got home, that shit was everywhere.

Ev.

Ree.

Where.

The staff in that school must really be wondering what the hell is going on in this house.

Yeah.

I won’t be going anywhere near that building for a while.

But one thing’s for sure.

We are never missing the fucking bus again.

Ever. 

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