Back when Hubster and I were dating long distance, a client asked me to show her step son around town. Ok. Fine. He, knowing absolutely nothing about me or my relationship, spent the evening trying to convince me that the love of my life was cheating on me, and promised to show me 'The Ultimate Evening.' So of course I told the bartender to hold the alcohol on any and every drink I ordered, no matter what I said, and to charge him top shelf prices. Then I went home and called my future Hubster and we laughed and laughed. Fast forward twelve years (!?) later and we still laugh about 'The Ultimate Evening.'
Today someone brought me poop. Twice. While I was breastfeeding. Actual poop. It was solid, and that was really exciting. (No, really, with CSID solid poo is cause to celebrate, but still...) This short, and rather intense individual, then insisted on not wearing a diaper, while sitting on my living room furniture, in a baffling, and self imposed time out.
Then, as if magically on cue, our real estate agent showed up with a photographer, to take pictures of our house for TV. Que the meltdown of epic proportions. Then the heavens opened up and glory of glories, our new nanny showed up, on time and cheerful to boot. The baby fell asleep, the crazy one decided she was 'our special girl who smells like flowers' and suddenly it was all ok again. Ahhh...
Sadly, she has a home and family she enjoys seeing, so here we are the Hubster and I, facing down 'The Ultimate Evening' alone.