"My mom be so mad!"

This happened a few weeks ago.  I wanted to blog about it then but I felt like I couldn't accurately describe the ridiculousness of it all.  I'm going to try now, anyway.

A few times a week I have the opportunity to watch a cute baby who is about 7 months old.  Peyton and Loralie absolutely adore this baby.  Her dad drops her off around 8:45 in the morning, which is about the time the girls wake up.  He brings her whole stroller into the house (the baby's mom and I always laugh about that).  The second the baby's dad left, she became upset, so I held her.  Peyton immediately dumped out the contents of her diaper bag to see if she could find  a cool toy to make the baby happy.  Loralie proceeded to hide behind the stroller and pull all of the DVDs out of our entertainment center.  Baby still cried.  Not long after, Loralie started to cry (she loves the baby but hates when I give her attention).  I put both babies on the floor and tried to play with them.  Still screaming.  At this time Peyton gives the phone to Loralie because she knows that that is Loralie's favorite toy.  I hardly notice because I am still trying to console the other baby.  This goes on for sometime.  Much crying.

In all of this, I catch Peyton trying to hide behind the couch.  That means she's trying to poop.  I tell her in my "serious mom voice" that she needs to go sit on the potty.  She disappeared.  Yes.  I did it.  The girls are still crying.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw an image in my window.  A police car zoomed right up and two officers ran (really, they ran) to our apartment.  I'm an apartment manager and this was not the first time the police have paid a visit to one of our tenants.  I wondered who did what this time.  Then, they opened my door.  The conversation went something like this...

Police: We are responding to a 9-1-1 call.  What is the problem?
Me: (stunned) Are you sure it is from here?  We don't have a problem.
Police: The call is still in progress.
Me: (Scan room.  Peyton is gone.  So is the phone.)  I'm so sorry.  My daughter is somewhere playing with the phone.
Police:  Is it okay if we come in and check things out, anyway?
Me: Sure.

I'm going to paint a picture for those of you who may have forgotten the scene.  Two screaming babies, one is half dressed with breakfast all over her face.  My small living room has a stroller in the middle of it with the contents of a large diaper bag scattered everywhere.  Our DVD collection was pulled from shelves and was now in a spread out pile on the floor.  I was still in my pajamas.  My house still smelled like dinner from the night before because I hadn't done the dishes.  And it was a very garlic themed meal.

The officers walked around and the babies still screamed.  They checked all the rooms except mine and asked if anyone else was in the house.  I told them that my toddler was here.  I heard noise coming from my room.  I tried to open the door but Peyton had locked it.  I picked the lock in front of the officers and opened the door.  The smell of poop hit me like a punch in the face.  And it looked like my room had been ransacked.  The clothes baskets were dumped out (because Peyton likes to use the baskets as ladder-type things) and my dresser had tipped over (likely from Peyton trying to climb it).  The blankets and pillows had been thrown from my bed in a pile on the ground.  I shouted for Peyton and heard nothing.  Then I saw the blankets shift.  I lifted the blankets and found Peyton half naked talking on the phone.  The police officers asked Peyton if she had called them.  She said, "yes!"  They asked her why and do you know what she said?  Do you?

"I poop my pants my mom be SO MAD!"  Oh, I was mad, all right.

The police explained to her that 9-1-1 was only for emergencies.  I apologized profusely and sort of wanted the earth to swallow me.

Peyton emerged from the blankets in all of her stinky glory and as the police were leaving she asked if she was going to get a "big pow-pow."

Over the next week I waited for CPS to show up.  They never did.  While I'm grateful they didn't, I can't help but feel like somebody probably dropped the ball.