This post is dedicated to my husband, who like me, generally has an aversion to warm & fuzzy, emotional or inspirational things and therefore was a little bitter about being suckered into reading my terribly unfunny post yesterday.
It was Fall, 2006. I was pregnant with the twins but I did not yet know that they were twins. Therefore I was ginormously huge for no apparent reason. I figured that's just what happens to one's body when pregnant with a fourth baby. By the 48th time a stranger asked me, "Due soon?" and then went into utter shock when I told them not till January, I should have had a clue but I didn't.
It was a lovely fall day. I was in the bedroom working and watching the kids through the window playing on the trampoline in the backyard. Josh was home for two weeks from his job at the drilling camp and he was helpfully mopping the front room with his music blasting. Then, several things happened at once. The doorbell rang and just at that moment I glanced outside and saw the children fighting. I actually don't remember who was killing who - Sebastian was pretty feisty back then and they were closer in size. So lets say it was Sebastian, kneeling on top of Isaak with his hands around his neck. I yelled for Josh but he was talking to someone at the front door. I quickly hopped up - well as quickly as someone that large could hop...and it was probably more of a lurching motion than a hopping one - and ran, okay waddled with great urgency, out of the room to rescue my children from each other. Now remember, Josh had been mopping. So I got through the back hallway and hit the family room with all the speed I could muster when I slipped on the slick wet floor. My feet went out from under me and I crashed on the ground in clear view of the front door. I was fine, but I was still in a panic about the scene I had witnessed in the backyard so I was laying on the ground yelling, "Get the boys! They're killing each other, go stop them!"
I'm not sure what was going on in my dear sweet husband's head at this time. He is a people pleaser and was pleasantly chatting up the Schwan man who was trying to get us to try his services. I can only assume that between the suddenness and the chaos and the guy at the front door and his people pleasing tendencies he became confused and just wanted to smooth everything over for the stranger on the door step and make him comfortable. He glanced back and seeing his whale of a wife sprawled out behind him, furrowed his brow. He turned back to the Schwan man and said, "I'm sorry, what were you saying?" Mr. Schwan looked understandably alarmed and said, "Is she okay?" The only thing on my mind was saving the children from each other. Urgently I said again, "I'm fine, I'm totally fine, get the boys, stop the boys!" Josh couldn't make sense of what I was saying about the boys but he took my word for it that I was fine. He said, "I think she's okay. What days did you say you deliver?" Mr. Schwan, who was reacting to the situation like a far more normal person than either of us were clearly able to pretend to be, was not remotely assuaged by Josh's pleasant demeanor. "Are you sure she's okay? Her arm looks really bad." Josh and I both glanced at my arm. It did look really bad, bent at a completely unnatural angle. Josh pleasantly replied, "Oh no, her arm goes that way, she does that all the time." In Josh's defense, my arm does go that way and I do do it with some frequency, although "all the time" might be a bit of an over statement. My arm is "double-jointed" and can appear to be horribly contorted if I turn it just so. Here, I'll show you:
The Schwan man had had enough. He said, "Maybe I should come back another time." Josh smiled and said, "That'd be great!" Mr. Schwan hurried away. As soon as the door was closed, Josh's expression changed from the consoling, "You're okay, I'm okay she's okay," smile to a bewildered, "What the hell just happened?" sort of look. He helped me up and I hobbled to the back door to rescue the children, who by this time were over whatever it was that was going on when I had first looked out the window and happily bouncing and playing again.
The Schwan man did NOT come back later. In fact, a few other times he was in the neighborhood going door to door and yet, for some strange reason, never came knocking at our house again. Which was fine, because Josh was never planning on ordering in the first place.
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