Why do I bother to pretend that I am a professional working woman? I mean, really?

Incident number 247 happened yesterday further cementing the fact that I can TRY to position myself as a professional but my children will ALWAYS always find a way to out me.

The setup: (5:30pm) House is quiet.  My husband was home from work sick and sleeping upstairs. The two boys had already eaten and were playing with friends outside.  I am on brief conference call discussing an upcoming project with a rather new business connection.

The following ensues:

WHAM! Doorbell, doorbell, doorbell.  BANG, BANG, BANG!

I whip around to see one son has suddenly appeared inside with a friend and is “rather forcefully” shutting the door thereby leaving another little boy out on the porch who is now obsessively ringing the doorbell and banging on the door.

I wave frantically and menacingly at the kids while the gentleman on the line keeps talking. (The gentleman who, by the way, HAS NO CHILDREN OF HIS OWN.)

Both kids in front of me ignore my menacing I’m-on-the-phone-please-stop-embarrassing-me gestures and proceed to loudly whine thing things like this in unison: “Bobby is being mean to us he won’t LEAVE!   We want to play inside but he won’t go away!  Make him stop! It is not my fault if I don’t want to play with him anymore! Blah, blah, blah…” (And other such nonsense.)

This woman looks all calm and professional. Clearly she does not have children.

Bobby, of course, won’t STOP banging on the FREAKING door.  (Manners, dude?!) So, like an idiot, I open the door (while continuing to chat with the gentleman caller as if nothing were going on) to diffuse the situation and little Bobby forces his way into the house and also ignoring my important-call-phone-gestures starts wailing “Miss Jen I want to come insiiiiiddde! I can come inside if I want! It is a free country!” And then all hell breaks loose in which they all start debating the concept of “free country”  against the counter-argument of “it’s MY house.”  Loud back and forth banter continues between kids and I officially loose the “professional woman” facade.

The chuckling client “let’s me go to deal with the issues and we can talk later.”  Brilliant.

OMG those kids are lucky they are still alive because REALLY!!!??? Did that drama have to unfold RIGHT THEN?  Did they NOT SEE the fact that I was on the phone?  Did I not warn them ahead of time?

Sometimes, I don’t know why I bother.