Work with me here!

I got a client from our company’s referral service. Who cares, right? Well, I haven’t had a client of my own—ever. All of our clients belong to me AND Hubs. Since someone has to watch the kids while we are showing properties he usually takes the clients and I take care of the kids. This client, however, specifically wanted a female agent. So between me and Hubs, that would fall to me.

And so in a sort of “Freaky Friday” role reversal, Hubs stayed home to watch the kids and I went out to do the whole Realtor thing. This, of course, meant that I had to get ready and dressed like a realtor and not a mommy—jeans, tee shirt and Ugg boots were not going to cut it. Hubs, on the other hand, was jazzed about the Mr. Mom attire. BUT, being a little out of practice for watching the kids while I get ready, Hubs wasn’t being as attentive and watchful as he should have been. It took me twice as long to get ready as it should have.

I’m not gonna lie, I was a little stressed. There was a list of 28 properties that my client was interested in. We decided to focus on one city at a time, so that narrowed it down to 24. Of the remaining 24, 6 were not longer active. So I called on 18 properties to set up showing appointments. Of the 18 that I called, I was able to set up 9 appointments. Then I had to figure out the most logical order to map out our route. Then I printed out the agent information sheets, printed out buyer home viewing scorecards, and put everything into a folder for her. I was ready about 10 minutes early. (I was only done early simply because I did all of this from the office. If I had done this from home I would probably still be setting up appointments now!) My client arrived and we set out. It went relatively well. Out of the 9 properties we looked at, it took us 3 ½ hours, and she only really liked one of them. (This was not the stressful part—keep reading…) We’ll be going out again…maybe

I only say maybe because apparently watching the kids is not as easy as it looks. This was evident when I got home. Let’s start with the house. There were toys and clothes strewn about like a small interior tornado had hit our family room. No beds were made. Remnants of lunch (El Pollo Loco take out, because how can you possibly cook AND watch the kids at the same time?) were still on the table. And there were about 7 sippy cups in the kitchen sink. (???) I didn’t ask.

Joy’s hair (which is down to her waist) was still in the messy pony tail she was wearing when she went to bed last night. Her face was not visible—she looked like Cousin It. She was wearing denim capris with tennis shoes and no socks. The shirt she had on belongs to my 16 month old. Joy is 4. The shirt looked like a “Girls Gone Wild” crop top. I asked why she was wearing it. Hubs said that he asked her if it was hers and she answered, “I’ll wear it.” (Try checking the tag for a size?) I suggested that she change into something more comfortable, meaning something that actually fit, but she told me, “No, Mommy—I wore this all day. It’s good. I even wore it when we were outside in the front yard.” (Oh, yes, that is good…let all the neighbors see that we can’t properly groom or clothe our children.)

Marlo was marginally better. She had on a dress--no matching bloomers (that I am pretty sure were on the same hanger as the dress) but at least she had on a diaper. Half of what she ate was still on her face. The top portion of her face was covered by her hair. Her socks didn’t match, but at least she had some on!

When I got home, Hubs turned the reins over to me. In about 2 minutes flat he was snoring, loudly, on the couch. During that time I cleaned the girls up, combed their hair, put weather-appropriate, matching, correctly-sized clothes on them, and took them for a walk with the dog. When we got home, Hubs had not moved.

After dinner, baths, and bed for the girls Hubs asked me, “Does Marlo not like Sprite?” (OK, well, let’s forget the fact that she’s 16 months old, has never had any kind of soda…ummm—NO!) In the calmest voice I could muster I said, “No, dear, we don’t give the baby soda.” And he said, “Yeah, I kinda figured that when she took a swig of my drink and spit it out all over the floor.” (That explains the big sticky spot in the kitchen.) He then told me, “Wow! It’s fun spending time with the girls, but they can really wear you out.”

Bless his heart—at least he tried. I am hoping that when he has recuperated he will still retain some of the lessons of the day…the most important one being: Just because you stay at home with the kids does not mean that you don’t put in a full day’s work.

Welcome to my world, Hubs! Take your coat off, stay awhile…