Er, rings.

Nap time in our house means Baylor sleeps for approximately 2 hours and mommy scrambles to get as much done in those 2 hours as possible. I can be quite productive – “to do” items are prioritized not only by need, but also if it can be accomplished with the help of my “assistant”. Dishes these days are a toss up. She’s actually pretty good at handing me the silverware and then is totally entertained pushing the buttons – she actually locked out the controls the other day and I had to break out the manual to undo it. Laundry is fine as long as she gets to push and pull the baskets, put the wash into the dryer, push all the buttons and I can fold it on the bed so she can’t pull down the freshly folded shirts. Most household cleaning is doable. She really likes to swiffer, take turns holding the vacuum and makes “ppssshhht ppssshhhtt” sounds while holding the spray bottles of cleaner (because she can’t actually squirt it, she just makes the sound).  But anything to do with the office is a no go – she lllooooovvveeess to type on the computer, whether or not I’m sitting at the computer makes no difference. She climbs into the chair and either wrestles me for the keyboard and mouse or stands behind me and tries to get the headband, hair tie or ear piece away from my head. Not only is it unproductive, it’s also potentially painful.

That said, all calls that I need to make, bills to be paid, blogs to be written and read, emails to be sent, etc. take place between in the hours of noon and 2pm. Most significant are the calls because I’m self conscious about a screaming kid in the back ground, especially when it’s a semi professional call. I try to make all calls of this nature around noon and then pray that the return call will happen before 2pm. Which, it almost never does. As soon as I hear the tell-tale sounds of a baby starting to wake up, I know that phone is going to ring. I try to ignore the sounds. If it hasn’t been two hours yet, I go in and silently rock her back to sleep, begging for just 45 more minutes.

No sooner do I close the door and sigh with relief… the whimpers develop into wails and I close out what I’m working on. Only then does the phone in fact, ring.