Paul had early morning meetings, which left me to get the boys ready for church on my own. I’ve done it before and I wasn’t worried. As I was finishing up my morning regime I thought, “I am so awesome. The boys are dressed. I am dressed. Not only will we be on time for church, but we may even be early. Yay me!”
Little Red interrupted my self-praise and said, “Mummy, come look!”
He proudly displayed the newest piece of art, co-created with his brother. The two had gotten dry erase markers from my husband’s briefcase and had drawn all over the carpets (and on the washing machine, but that was easy enough to wipe off!) I sent the older one to time out downstairs, and tossed the younger one in his crib where he couldn’t expose himself to the toxins I was about to use, and I set to work on the carpet. I knew I had to act fast, because we have several t-shirt stains from dry erase markers. Once set, they do not come out of fabric.
What part of you thought this would be a good idea? I didn’t say it. But my mind was screaming it so loudly as I scrubbed the carpets in my skirt that I’m sure they heard me anyway. Spray, scrub, vacuum. Spray, scrub, vacuum. We got to church only a minute late, and me knocked down a few (considerable) steps off my high horse.
I left for church not sure my efforts would pay off. They did, fortunately. I think the carpet is okay. Our $1300 deposit will live to die another day. (I’m thinking the chipping plaster on the walls will be the winning ticket.)