It's Thursday and I finally received a call from the Apartment people. This is after I talked to someone Monday morning right when they were arriving at work. They preceded to tell me that I was SIXTH on the list and they would be getting to me "soon." My response was that the rent I was supposed to pay was sixth on the list of my priorities and I would get that to them soon also.

So today I received a call that they were trying to get in the apartment but had misplaced the key? If I could call back to let them know when I would be home, that would be great. I called and they sent someone over. . . right in the middle of the boy's nap. He comes in to inspect my dishwasher. I apologize for the awful smell of standing water from the past two and a half weeks and he mumbled something about having to come over from another property and his daughter's birthday party yada, yada, yada. I half smiled thinking I don't care just fixed the stupid dishwasher. He looked around it and inside it looking for I am not sure what. He then turned the thing on and watched it. IT RAN. He continued to watch the most annoying piece of appliance. IT RAN. I tried explaining the leaking water and all the dishes I have washed the past two and a half weeks and the running water and the smell and he watched the machine run just fine. He then told me that he was going to look at a problem at another apartment and would be back. For the next hour the damn machine ran just fine like there had never been a problem. He returned to see the unexcitment and muttered about bad detergent or something else that came from nowhere and went on his way. "Oh", he said as he turned back my way, "if you have any more problems just give us a call."

I slugged back to the kitchen to load the past three days worth of dishes into the dishwasher, mad at myself for not trying to run the thing during the past two and half weeks and waiting on the idiots that are suppose to fix things around here. The last dish was carefully put in so that none where left and so I could end the day with a clean kitchen. It was time for the boys to get up so I started it up. 10 minutes later I hear Cooper from the kitchen "YUCK, WHAT IS THIS?"

"My freshly soaking wet floor." Same story, second verse.

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Conversation held on Friday at the gym between teacher and myself. This is as I have three bags on my shoulder, Wyatt grabbing my leg for mercy and Cooper running down the hallway to be the first to push the button for the automatic doors to open . . .
"Jenny, there is an incident report in the bag from today."

"Oh no, what happened? Did Wyatt get hit? Is there a mark? What did you do to the other child? There are just to many kids in here." I can feel my heart rate rising and feeling a little agitated that they don't watch these out of control children hurting my little baby.

"well, actually Wyatt grabbed another boys face and scratched it and we had to put him in time out."

I hang my head in shame. "okay, then . . . thanks"

How soon we as parents forget, eh? (December 17, 2005 The Lusty Boys)