My dear, darling sister is currently laid up, 8 1/2 months pregnant, patiently waiting for the 29th when the doctor will break her water and she will be able to stand up straight again.
Her husband is recovering. He had back surgery just a little over a week ago and is now on medications that make him not quite himself.
And where, might you ask, are the 2 children they already have? My living room. Watching Elmo.
I have inherited two small children. Small children have A LOT of stuff. Last week my mom and I spent several hours rearranging our house to make it "Child Proof" and create a pseudo bedroom complete with "Cars bed!" as Andrew calls his child mattress with a plush cars blanket and a small playpen/crib for Caleb.
My floor, couch and kitchen are now covered in various legos, blocks, puzzles, books and hot wheels. My bathtub is filled with toy boats and animals (not to mention slightly stained from all the purple, green and orange baths they've been taking). There are juice boxes in my refrigerator, diapers in my garbage can, and tiny child hangers with tiny child clothes in my closet. Who on earth would allow such a thing to happen to their home? Who would let children drool and wipe their noses all over their shirt? Who would sit through Thomas the Train after Thomas the Train episode? There is a name for this person. Mommy. This is the type of person I have become. I change diapers. I clean up toys after the children fall asleep. And I am very tired. But somehow, I get all the energy I need to take care of them when I hear that small voice say "Aunt Tori? I lolve you." or see that big smile come toddling toward me saying "MOMOMOMOM" And I never, never get tired of the warm hugs and slimy little kisses.
So here it is: Rent-A-Mom, Open for Business.
