I led Dr. Simpson and Fran?ois to the couch where a Happy Maid was using a broom to hit toys out from under the recliner. A sippy cup filled with what had probably been milk at some point came shooting out and hit the wall, causing the top to fall off and a cottage-cheese-like substance to come spraying out. I was mortified.
I stood to help. “I’ll get that.” But the Happy Maid just waved me away and began cleaning it up with gloved hands.
At the sight of her forgotten cup, Aubrey tried to leap out of my lap and slurp down its rotten contents.
“No, Aubrey, yucky.” I distracted her with a stuffed octopus with mirrors on each tentacle.
I looked up to see Dr. Simpson and Fran?ois staring at me. Fran?ois had a look of abject horror on his face. It’s probably not every day he sees homemade cheese spray all over a wall.
Dr. Simpson and Fran?ois sat on either side of me.
Fran?ois shifted nervously. “Ashley. I brought zee doctor here after seeing your condition yesterday,” he spoke calmly, as if talking down a toddler holding a Sharpie.
“What condition?” I asked, while Aubrey pulled my hair.
I looked at Dr. Simpson whose presence was starting to feel more and more looming, especially with him studying my face as if I were a specimen under a microscope.
The doctor cleared his throat. “Ashley, being a hoarder is nothing to be ashamed of. I’m here to see if we can make some breakthroughs today.”
I choked on the air and burst out laughing. “A hoarder? I’m not a hoarder! Would a hoarder’s house look like this?” I gestured around the room and quickly figured out that while it looked clean to me, three laundry baskets of clothes, an entire wall of toys, and the recent cup o’curds weren’t helping my argument.
“No one eez judging you. We only want you to not live in your own filth.” Fran?ois nodded patronizingly.
I sputtered, feeling insulted. “Okay, look. I buy my daughter a lot of toys but I’m not a hoarder. Dr. Simpson, feel free to tour my home and see for yourself.”
Dr. Simpson nodded without saying a word as if he were witnessing massive denial.
Suddenly a Happy Maid holding a large garbage bag was standing in front of us.
“Mrs. Keller, what would you like to do with this?” Oh, no. It was one of the “hurry up people are coming” bags from my bedroom. To my absolute shock she emptied the bag right there on the living room floor. Dr. Simpson, Fran?ois and I stared at the foot-high pile of underwear, solo socks, candy wrappers, a wine bottle or two, stuffed animals and other random goods.
I set Aubrey on the floor and began hurriedly tossing items back into the bag.
I looked up at Dr. Simpson. “I was in a rush to clean.” I swiveled my head to the Happy Maid whose ever-present smile had slightly faded. “I’ll take care of this.”
It took half an hour and a tour of my home, but I finally convinced Dr. Simpson and Fran?ois that I wasn’t a hoarder, just very bad at home management.
“Ah, so you are just very messy, zen!” Fran?ois declared happily.
“Exactly!” I agreed.
Fran?ois took my hand “I’m so, so sorry, Ashley. I was simply worried,” he explained.
“It’s quite alright,” I said, feeling both embarrassed and relieved. At least now when David complains about the house I can say that a psychiatrist signed off on it.
“If you ever want to get to the root of your issues, feel free to get in touch,” Dr. Simpson said before handing me his card.
Fran?ois and I bid Dr. Simpson adieu. When we closed the door I gave him a look.
“I am so sorry, Ashley. I just had to be sure,” he sputtered.
“It’s alright,” I assured him. He probably just hadn’t seen many homes cared for by first-time moms with an Amazon Prime account. Which led me to wonder. What did the other moms’ houses look like?
“Am I the first bootcamp mom you’re visiting?” I inquired.
“Mais no, I have already completed five home transformations!” I gulped. That means he had seen other houses and mine was the worst.
“And my house was the messiest so far?” I squeaked.
Fran?ois tapped my shoulder the way someone would try to comfort a potentially volatile person.
“Zere, zere, Ashley. It’s not a competition.”
Actually, it was. And $100,000 plus my pride was on the line.
Fran?ois puttered off to consult with Shelly about the placement of the new furniture. I couldn’t bring myself to look at it quite yet. Not when it symbolized the potential destruction of my husband’s trust in me. As I walked upstairs to change Aubrey, I passed a Happy Maid pushing my bed away from the wall to vacuum. We’re supposed to do that? Move furniture to clean?
Once Aubrey was changed, I packed her diaper bag and sat on the front porch with her while she devoured a bag of crackers. It felt so weird to have people in my home. Fran?ois assured me that he would stay until the last person left and lock up. “You are going to be dazzled when you return.” I had to admit that I was excited.
Aubrey shoved another cracker into her mouth and greedily gummed it until it dissolved.
“She might eat more at meals if she didn’t snack so much,” a voice said. I didn’t have to look up to know who it was.
“Hello, Gloria.” I picked up Aubrey and handed her to Grandma.
Gloria was dressed resort casual in white capris and a brightly colored, flowing button-up top decorated with a tropical jungle print complete with several toucans. Her large white sun hat was tied under her chin.
Aubrey screamed happily as Gloria nuzzled her.
“My sweet girl! What are you eating? Oh, you’re so hungry! Did you have breakfast? You feel lighter. Does she feel lighter to you?”
She bounced Aubrey up and down like a melon.
“She is a little bit lighter but only because I’m starving her,” I joked dryly.
Gloria pursed her lips. She never did appreciate my sarcasm. “Are we ready to go? I can’t wait to spend the day with you!” she squealed, looking at Aubrey.
“It’s going to be fun!” I tried to convince myself, grabbing my diaper bag.
Gloria began walking Aubrey to the car. Thankfully David had installed the car seat the night before. She turned back to me. “Did you remember the diapers? I’d hate for my grandbaby to have to suffer through another panty debacle.”
My face went hot. “Diapers are all here.”
Five minutes later we were rushing down the highway, Gloria in the driver’s seat, me in my own personal Hades.
To Grandmother’s house we go.
When we arrived at Gloria’s house I was prepared to hear Terry yapping away as we walked up to the door, but it was quiet.
She guessed what I was thinking, “He’s at the vet today. Gall bladder surgery. A doggy mommy’s work is never done.”