Frazzled

I don't think I am frazzled. In fact, I think - all things considered - I handle my household of two 1 year olds pretty darn peacefully. I feel that everything is under control and basically stress free about 95% of the time. Okay, maybe 90% of the time. I also must say that I am rather proud of myself for being able to keep it all together. At least I think I am keeping it together. That was until Monday when apparently I must have been looking rather frazzled.

I took the kids to story time at the library on Monday. I managed to get everyone bundled up into their winter gear. I got Marcus out of the car and had him kind of pinned between me and the car while I got William out. Then I carried William and held Marcus's hand and we headed from the parking lot into the library. I was feeling rather cool that I was doing all this and everyone was happy and safe and enjoying life. I was there with my two kids and I was doing it! There are a few steps to go down before entering the library and just as we got to the top of the stairs, a couple was exiting the building.

They were an elderly couple. The woman, all hunched over and shuffle-stepping, was already out the door and her husband, carrying a cane, was still on his way through the doorway. Just as the thought was entering my mind that I wish I had gotten there a few seconds earlier so I could have been at the bottom of the steps to help them with the door, the man spoke to me. "Take your time!" he called in a creaky voice. "I got the door for you when you get down those stairs but take them slow!"

Apparently I was frazzled. Here I am this young, spry, and youthful member of society and I needed an elderly man with a cane around to help me with the door. These gray hairs I have been getting must really be shining through.