Is this a 911 call?

I like e-mail.

I can respond on my own time, after I have given thought to whatever it is I want to say.  I can portray myself as calm and educated (thank you spell check).

Ditto for text messages.

Phone calls now scare the sh*t out of me.  Especially phone calls to people that do not know I am housing  two miniature terrorists.

I made a decision today.  I had been staring at some carpet samples for almost three weeks and I had finally chosen our new area rug.  My designer had taken the time to go to the store and narrow down my selection to 7 or 8 samples.  She also gave me the business the card of the lady who had helped her out.  It had her e-mail and her phone number.

Oh, carpet lady.  Do I e-mail you my order or call?  The Yoys were doing laps around the house on their ride along cars.  On a loudness scale, 1 being a whisper and 10 being my eardrums are bursting, I'd give them an 8.  They were pretty loud.

I manned up and decided to call carpet lady.  Surely I can keep my kids quiet for the seven minutes it'll take to place my order.  Like a chump, I asked the Yoys to keep it down because I needed to make an important call.

I moved into the dining room, hoping they would not follow me.

I was able to get a hold of carpet lady and gave her my selection.

The Yoys were surprisingly quiet.  Sweet.  Things are going to be fine.  Carpet lady will have no idea of the state I am in.

It's like they could read my thoughts.

Little E came running in with his patented blood curdling scream.  Big E was hot on his heels responding in his equally blood curdling scream.  It's like they were beluga whales communicating through their beautiful underwater song.  Except it is neither beautiful nor underwater.

I apologize and move to another room so I can hear what carpet lady is saying.  Unfortunately, my kids have Yoydar and they find me.  They continue with the screaming.  I take a deep breath.  I think I hear glass shatter.

Carpet lady thinks I am murdering my children.  It seriously sounds like death is happening in my house.


I'm so sure this is what she is thinking.

I apologize again.  She laughs nervously and tells me she used to work at a daycare and she understands.

While I appreciate her empathy at this juncture, she seriously cannot understand.

I'm on the verge of tears.  I'm frustrated.  Why can't my kids just sit quietly and look at books while I'm on the phone?

Yeah, yeah, I can hear you laughing through the internet.

Anyway, the rug is ordered.  I finished the call speed walking in circles around my house.  But from now on, I'm only using the telephone when my kids are asleep.
I wish I had it this together.


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