Urban Nightmare

I had a terrible morning. I woke up, went into the kitchen and out of the corner of my eye I saw it. A cockroach. In the playroom. We live in downtown NYC, so when we see a cockroach, it's not your run of the mill bug. It's one of those huge, slimy, black, monstrous, crawl into your nightmares kind of water bug cockroach. I become paralyzed every time I see one.

(this is our playroom)

My seven year old, who does not share my phobia, tried to trap it under a plastic container but the sucker was too fast for her and escaped around the corner of our bookshelves. Now what?

(it ran around that white bookcase, behind all those boxes)

"Girls, get dressed, we're going out for breakfast."

I walked into my room to find that my sixteen-year-old cat threw up on my rug. Did I mention it is a silk weave? I threw a towel over it (I'll deal with it later), made sure every last light was turned on and we were off. That's when my eleven-year-old started in.

(the cat vomit is under that towel)

"I'm going to be late for school, we don't have enough time to go out for breakfast. I can't be late."

So I did what any mom of a tween would do. I stooped to the level of a small child and started mimicking her. She didn't think it was funny. But my seven-year-old did. (I kind of did too).

I drop off the kids, stretch my meeting as long as I can, but eventually I have to head home. And what am I supposed to do about my visitor? Not a problem. My wonderful brave doorman will take care of it for me.

Except he's out sick today.

Sigh. I knew this was going to turn into a terrible day.