The Captain told me, before I returned to work, that I needed to be completely together and organized, getting things done in efficient,rapid fire like she does. For the Captain and my sister, Mindy (Mindy is like my mom’s heir to the throne. I’ll call her the Duchess), this happens so effortlessly.
Much like my father, Mr. Wonderful, and my brother, the Golden Child, I get– distracted. The Captain and the Duchess would most likely refer to our distractions as procrastination. Forgive them for their untrained eyes.
Nonetheless, the Captain had an iron-tight, fail proof schedule for me to follow so that I could pull myself together for the workplace like, I don’t know, Beyonce. Somehow she believes that I have the ability to organize my life in such a way that I can pull off a look like I have team of stylists in my bathroom every morning.
C’mon, Captain, surely you know me better than that.
I’ll say this, I gave it a good fight. For two weeks, I ironed, hung, and
accessorized five outfits top to bottom, just like Beyonce would. I was reminded by the Captain that the Duchess had her wordrobe pre-selected EVERY week.
Two weeks in, I fell off the wagon. (I considered lasting this long a “win” for me.) Let’s be real, there was absolutely not a snowball’s chance in hell I was going to be able to sustain such a high level of togetherness. The Captain and the Duchess are professionals. I’m just trying to stay focused enough to avoid leaving my child’s car seat on the rooftop of my car, right up there next to my cup of coffee.
In the spirit of self-improvement, I sought other ways to whittle down my time wasting ways; Lord knows they are plentiful. I thought I had struck time saving gold when Jeffrey was given the green light by his doctor to begin introducing some solid foods.
From his first bite of rice cereal, Jeffrey’s burgeoning love affair with food began. He is truly passionate about his new found use of a spoon. Jeffrey is in the big leagues. He fancies himself a bonafide gourmand with exquisite tastes that include a landscape of lavish treats such as: oatmeal a la breast milk, puree of sweet potato, applesauce sans sucre ( the unsweetened, bland stuff), and smashed carrots a la naturelle. What a palate!
He gets so excited to eat that he blows out huge puffs of air like a humpback whale surfacing. Sticky, pureed food E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E. Nothing is safe from Jeffrey’s stickiness.
Oprah, here is my “A-Ha” moment. In a brilliant attempt at multitasking I decided to feed Jeffrey his dinner in his little bathtub, simultaneously covering the areas of nutrition, hygiene, and recreation/entertainment all at once.
(Does Beyonce feed her baby in the tub, Captain and Duchess? I think I got her on this one.)
I have to say, I was pretty proud of my efficiency. I was smiling like a corny jackass. Jeffrey was smiling, laughing, slapping the holy hell out of the water that surrounded him.
Life was good.
Suddenly Jeffrey’s joyful noise came to a grinding halt. The straightforward stare, the red-faced grunt, the bubbles escaping from beneath my sweet angel’s bottom.
“HEEEEEEEEEEE’S POOOOOOOOOPING!!!!” I yell to his father, Jeff, in a tone that made it appear I was about to be plowed by a fast moving train. Poop in water that is not in a toilet apparently strikes the fear of God in me.
I quickly wisk Jeffrey from his peaceful baby oasis–food, water, and POOP flying all over the place.
Suffice to say, I lost any and all time that my savvy multitaking saved to poop cleanup and widespread sterilization…
I’m ironing and pre-accessorizing my outfits for next week as we speak.