Well. Okay then. Dot dot dot. Which was what went through my head when I tried to process this visual last week. What happened was this. Rob went away to Perth for work for three nights last weekend. Not the one just gone, the one before. An unrelated but notable note is this: this was the first overnight he's taken from the girls away from the house. We've gone away without him but not visa versa. Well, on the first day Jobs created iPhone and it was much loved. Until it met a swift and unpleasant end on the powder room tiles as I fumbled like a modern day mime to catch its fall. I did not catch its fall. I also did not get a new phone, I was told via email to order one over the phone. BUT I DON'T HAVE A PHONE TO PHONE FOR A PHONE JERKFACE, is what I did not say to otherwise friendly 'Patrick', because the beauty of email is that you have plenty of time to calm down between shouting obscenities at the screen and actually committing your fingers to commit them to e-paper.
The end of that story is that I had to wait until Rob got home to call and order a new phone and that I'm still waiting for it. Please come today Mr. courier man. I know once upon a time people only communicated via tin can and string, and all was well and all did not explode but give me my iPhone. It's going to be an iPhone 5, that is a serious (har har) upgrade from an iPhone 4 and basically I need to be able to instagram again otherwise all my friends will think I am not doing things. And I AM doing things. I swear. I'm even eating food for lunch and dinner and breakfast too, not that you would know because I don't instagram my food anyway. Weird.
Meanwhile, back in the very stressful time period of 0-15 mins PiPD (that's Post- iPhone Destruction for those without the power to read minds), I was thanking my lucky stars that my babies were giving me some space. Beatie was cute-drooling in her sleep (as opposed to ugly-drooling, the term given to the same thing after the drooler turns ten) in her swing. And Violet, who knew what she was doing, I was just thankful that she was playing quietly. Now, every mother of toddler knows that this is basically the kiss of death for any future plans you had of having a Martha Stewart worthy home that day. Oh but I was so deeply involved in panicking about not being able to photograph and picture message all of the unbelievable messes that Violet makes in a day to Rob that I forgot to be diligent.
I have a rule: For each minute of time you enjoy silence you can be sure to be required to spend five minutes of time cleaning up the aftermath of such undeserved luxury. And lo, this is what fifteen whole minutes looks like. Not pictured: child who had taken all clothes off (clothes pictured), managed to pour a little cup of water on herself, roll in flour and essentially turn herself into a human deep-friable. If you're into little girl potato cakes. Which I just about was after my face turned from pale with shock to red with rage (at myself for being so stupid as to revel in the quiet). Because rage always makes me hungry even when I can't instagram it.