From: Dr. Cynthia Ross
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Emergency Appointment I don’t make house calls or book “night appointments.” The article about dust mites was complete lunacy and I hope the dust mite ray comes gold-plated at that price.
Feel free to call the office and make an appointment anytime. I only ask that you not bring your binder of printouts from the internet as they tend to make our visits last much longer than they need to.
Take care,
Dr. Ross
10 A.M.
I credit fresh air, good food and exercise for my children never having so much as a sniffle. Mother Nature is their pediatrician.
—Emily Walker, Motherhood Better There must be a way to let someone know that their baby doesn’t have a dust mite-induced infection without laughing in their face, right? If there is, Dr. Ross hasn’t heard of it.
If I wasn’t so tired I would have said something like, Excuse me if I don’t have more experience with teething, but if you’d heard my child crying you would have thought her internal organs were being disintegrated by the toxic feces of microscopic pests, too.
But I didn’t.
We were in the driveway. Aubrey was sleeping in her stroller. There was no way I was moving her. Maybe I could catch some Z’s, too. So tired.
11:45 P.M.
For teething pain I highly recommend using aromatherapy. My babies love the smell of lavender and jasmine diffused through Baltic sea water. Who needs big pharma when we have precious oils?
—Emily Walker, Motherhood Better Aubrey woke up again. I brought her into our room even though Joy’s #1 rule of parenting is “Never let them into your bed.” Aubrey was sleeping at my side now, and I had about six inches of space so I figured I’d just stay awake until morning.
I couldn’t go back to sleep if I tried. The type of shrill yell she woke me up with sent about fourteen gallons of adrenaline into my bloodstream. David, of course, slept peacefully through the whole thing. Would it be wrong to heat a fork and poke him with it? Kidding.
Thursday, February 28, 5 A.M.
I was beyond exhausted. Over the last few days I’d probably gotten eight hours of sleep total. Aubrey would only doze when I was holding her. I’d tried every over-the-counter remedy, every hippie remedy and everything in between. I even burned sage in the corners of her bedroom to ward off bad energy. That was Joy’s idea.
“Have you considered taking her to a channel to see if there’s something in a past life upsetting her?” was another bit of Joy’s brilliant advice.
“No, but thanks for the tip.”
“It’s all so strange. Ella sleeps soundly. So does George.”
The worst thing a mom can do is brag when you’re complaining.
“Oh, you’re struggling to lose ten pounds? I can’t seem to gain weight!”
“Oh, you’re having financial problems? We can’t figure out whether to buy a yacht or another summer home!”
So there we were, at 5 a.m., once again standing in the kitchen, Aubrey in her pink-and-white footie pajamas and me in one of David’s old college T-shirts and sweatpants. The sad fact was that I was dressed for the day. One great thing about being exhausted is that you don’t care what anyone thinks of your outfit choices.
Aubrey leaned into my chest and I pushed the black start button on the coffeemaker while I hugged her to my body with my free arm. She nuzzled. She was obviously tired—why wouldn’t she sleep? Was this normal?
Facebook Status: I remember when I thought eight o’clock classes were too early. Zzzzzzzz.
The coffee machine sizzled as it finished pouring the steaming black liquid into my Best Mommy Ever mug. David had surprised me with it in the birthing center. Wishful thinking, I suppose.
I dumped in all the vanilla creamer that would fit into the cup without splashing out and stirred it quickly with my finger.
Toting my coffee and daughter, I shuffled over to the couch and flipped the TV on to some home makeover show. It was always entertaining, seeing a dilapidated basement go from unfinished baseboards and exposed wires to an impressive, impeccably designed playroom.
I took a greedy sip of my coffee. Sweet and delicious. What would I do without this comforting blend of caffeine and sugar? Motherhood would be absolutely impossible without it. Suddenly, I realized that with all of Aubrey’s sleep issues I hadn’t checked in to the portal for over forty-eight hours. I wonder what I’d missed. Probably Samantha Davidson sharing photos of a baby calf she delivered with her own hands or Serena Hossfield posting a recipe for homemade toothpaste.
There was a message from two days ago, but it was from Emily herself! What did I miss? I shifted Aubrey, who was now sleeping, in my arms, and moved as close as I could to the screen. What had she said?
Motherhood Better Message:
From: Emily Walker
To: <<Entire Group>>
Hello ladies! I’m loving your posts about the Home Challenge. Samantha, your hand-reupholstered dining room set looks fantastic! Bravo! And Heather, the canary yellow paint is just what your kitchen needed. It looks full of sunlight!
I have a surprise for all of you. As I hinted during our last web call, I’m launching a new line called Emily at Home that will feature beautiful and practical items from furniture to hand towels. To make this challenge a little more exciting, I’m sending my right-hand man and chief designer, Fran?ois De La Rose, to each of your homes for a one-on-one consultation! He’ll help you use what you have, along with a few complimentary pieces from my line, to finish out this challenge with a bang!
I’ve posted appointment assignments below. If you need to reschedule, let me know ASAP, otherwise I’ll assume we’re good to go.
Happy designing!
Love and Hugs,
Emily
I scanned the bottom of the email with all of the ladies’ names, cities and dates until I found mine.
Ashley Keller....what? That date can’t be right. I opened my computer’s calendar and sure enough...today. Fran?ois De La Rose was coming to my house today. In three hours, to be exact.
I looked down at Aubrey, who was snoring contentedly in my arms, and then up at the pile of underwear and socks in the middle of my living room, three days’ worth of mail, one day’s worth of breakfast and a week’s worth of snack remnants on the dining room table. A trail of granola bar littered the entire floor. The kitchen sink was overflowing with dishes. My bedroom was a mess. Aubrey’s bedroom had toys everywhere and this famous French interior designer, who reports directly to Emily and influences who wins the Motherhood Better Bootcamp, would be here in three, no, two hours and forty-five minutes.
Well, shoot.