I knew moving to a new home with two small children was going to be an adventure to say the least. We’ve had lots of adjustments over the past two weeks, but the day before our closing was the most stressful of all so far.
It’s been said that children can sense your emotions, and I’m no expert on hiding mine in the first place, so we were all on edge the day before THE DAY. Unbeknownst to me, Justin had spent the entire day on the phone with the mortgage company and lawyer as they finalized things for our closing. At one point, it wasn’t even going to happen.
I was up to my ears in boxes, and at 3:36pm, the phone rang. I had just gotten Ella down for her first nap of the day, and Justin was calling to tell me that I needed to go to the bank RIGHT NOW to get our check for closing. The only problem, he said, was that he was having trouble transferring the money to my account. (No, why on earth would we have joint accounts? That would be too easy…)
So, I grab a cranky Ella out of her bed, throw the kids in the car and race to the bank. I think I forgot to mention that it closed at four. It was a miracle that we even arrived on time. I had the wherewithal to grab some lollipops from the counter immediately upon entering and stick them into the kids’ mouths. “Sit over there,” I said. “Play with the toys. Be quiet.” Ha!
I tried to explain to the teller that I needed a cashier’s check for a bazillion dollars by closing today, but the money wasn’t exactly in my account. You can imagine how this went over. Meanwhile, Justin was trying fervently to call me and call the bank so he could transfer the funds to my account. Around the same time, I noticed that one employee was locking the doors from the inside. Surely we wouldn’t have time to get this check.
During this whole debacle, the bank manager comes out, and tries to iron out the details of my situation. She ended up getting on the phone with Justin (who was at work 45 minutes away) to help the transfer move along. I looked behind me and saw Harrison racing from one end of the bank to the other on the pristine white floor tiles. Ella was toddling around with purple lollipop spit dripping from her chin. This then reminded me that I had given them lollipops. I noticed that she had set hers on the fuzzy chair in the waiting area, only to be picked up second later, lint and all going right back into her mouth. The toy section I had instructed the children to stay within was destroyed; books and balls were now littering the empty bank’s floors.
Ella, enamored by the radio on the floor in a corner, began an elaborate dance routine to pass the time. Smiling at my little princess, I turned around to pay attention to what the bank teller was trying to explain to me. A few moments later he looked over my shoulder and raised his eyebrows. I looked back and saw nothing else but Ella standing atop the radio. By the time I could race over to rescue her (she did NOT think she needed rescuing), she had turned the volume up full blast.
And because you’re all wondering what Harrison was doing during this particular performance of Ella’s, well, of course he was swinging from the ropes that distinguish the waiting line, singing along to whatever song it was that Ella was playing so loudly. I grabbed his hand and made him stand beside me. In response to this, he began swinging my arm. He then decided that yelling, “TITTIES! TITTIES!! TITTIES!!” would be an appropriate addition to the entertainment he was providing us all. I don’t know why he was yelling titties. I don’t know if he knows what titties are, but the bank tellers sure did.
I escaped the bank, check in hand, children in tow, embarrassment aplenty, thirty minutes after the place closed. A thank you note went out to the kind people who were able to assist me in my ever so complicated transaction. Hopefully they won’t remember me the next time I go in there.