What do you get when you take a triple digit heatwave, a rainstorm that leaves a million without power, a howling toddler, and an open house that features air conditioning and icy cold drinks?
I dunno if it was the heat or power outage, but a large group of slightly sweaty house hunters attended our open house this weekend. I was sweaty myself as I raced around (against doctor’s orders) with a squalling toddler on hip finishing the final touches.
The kiddo was put out because I was spending more time cleaning than playing with her. She shrieked “mama” over and over again at the top of her lungs.
I actually was lugging a bucket of cleaners and said screaming kiddo downstairs when the first group arrived.
I could have hugged the kind preggo mom who empathized with my plight and forgave my whirling dervish state.
Oh, it was a hot mess.
But the house looked great.
I somehow managed to put the kiddo, who was now screaming and poopy, into her carseat and head toward downtown Silver Spring.
I tried to change the now beet red in the face shrieking kiddo in the backseat while parked in the parking deck.
She kicked. She bucked. She knocked over the open faced poopy diaper.
I grabbed it just in the nick of time with a diaper wipe.
But not before yelping “Oh sh$t!”
The kiddo chose that minute to stop bawling and repeated the offending phrase.
“Oh great,” I said. “Now you start listening to me. Awesome.”
“Aweshome” she said sniffling.
I hugged her then for a really long time and dried her tears. I apologized for not spending more time with her and promised that now we can have fun.
We spent the rest of the afternoon in cleaner climes and using cleaner language.
We blew bubbles. We had a mommy-daughter lunch. We visited another little girl and her mommy.
And when we returned home, our agent reported that open house turnout was great.
When the hubby got off work we saw the Disney movie Brave, which features a mother-daughter relationship.
In the film, the feisty princess and her by-the-books mom clash.
For a while, they bring out the worst in each other. But eventually the two learn to respect that each has something to offer.
That night the kiddo insisted on snuggling next to me in bed. I hugged her and planted dozens of kisses on her cheeks and hair.
As she drifted off to sleep clutching my hair she softly whispered “mama.”



About domesticpolichick

My life is a crazy jumble of sitcom-level domestic hijinks and fast-paced political reporting in the nation's capital. Breastfeeding while doing a phone interview with a senator...yep, I've done it and no, I won't reveal the name. Toddler calling a member of Congress on the cell..yeah, that really did happen. Pregnant in high heels on Capitol Hill trying to chase down a particularly grumpy senator, yeah...that was nuts. But what can I say? I'm just one domestic polichick trying to figure out the work-life balance.
This entry was posted in Diapers and Deadlines, House Rules, In the Oven. Bookmark the permalink.

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