Don't Judge Me

You can't wear shoes in the infant room at the girls' school (calling it "school" makes me feel better than calling it "daycare"). Well, you can wear shoes but you have to cover them with "anti-skid covers," paper-type shoes like I imagine surgeons wear over their shoes before going into the OR. I understand the point of them - you don't want the stuff that's on the bottom of your shoes tracked all over the same floor where your baby is rolling around all day (and yes, both of my babies are now rolling around!). But have you ever tried to slip on paper shoes over your heels while carrying two infants in their car seats and a bag of 6 bottles? It's next to impossible.

The alternative to wearing these paper shoes is slipping off your shoes before you go in. Much easier. So I keep a pair of black flats in the car with me that I can easily slip off and on when carting the babies to and from the infant room. After I drop off the girls and am back in the car, I change into my boots or heels or whatever I planned on wearing to work. Of course sometimes, probably more than I should, I just end up wearing the black flats to the office. But if I do manage to wear something slightly more stylish to work, I then change back into the flats before I go into the school.

Last Wednesday though, I didn't quite complete the transfer. I somehow arrived in the lobby of the school wearing one black flat and one black high heel. (And no, I don't know how I manged to walk from the car to the lobby without noticing, but I did. I've got a lot going on, people!) I quickly debated what was more embarrassing - running back to the car to make the switch before collecting the girls or hobbling down the hall to the infant room in my mismatched shoes. I started to keep on hobbling, but then I tried to imagine me hobbling back to the car with the two babies and the bottle bag and I reversed my decision. So I darted back to the car, relieved that I'd only been noticed by one smirking father in the lobby. (If that b*tchy director had been around, no doubt she would have commented!)

Of course when I enter the infant room the father from the lobby is in there collecting his baby too. I avoid eye contact with him but make sure he knows that I'm there to collect two babies as opposed to his one. Yeah, I'd like to see him try to drop off and collect two babies every day and still manage to coordinate details like shoes.

I need a sign or a t-shirt that reads, "Don't judge me, I'm the mother of twins." And by the way, how long do you think I can keep riding that excuse? Because I'm thinking I'm gonna need 10, maybe 15 years before I manage to get it together.

Eh, who are we kidding, I've never really had it together. But at least now I have an excuse, right?