hola, isabel

Last night was not a good night. It started well enough with Babboo and me sitting on our newly built deck in the sun, eating grapes, and reading “Breaking Dawn”.

The night quickly headed south with a dreadful trip to IKEA, a crying child, and a fight with The King over party etiquette. (Etiquette, people!) (Which, for the record, I was totally in the right.) (I’m just saying.)

The night was starting to get better when we got home and I proceeded to make a batch of my famous rice crispy treats. (What makes them “famous”? The fact that they are damn good, that’s what.) I was going to fill my belly with rice crispy treats and my mind with pure, sweet, teenage vampire love.

And that’s when I heard someone knocking on our back window. Dude, it was 9:00 at night. Knowing someone was at our window made me nervous. But not nervous enough to stop stirring my melting marshmallows. I was not to going risk burning them. (You would have done the same thing. Admit it.)

The King got up and walked to the window only to discover one of our friends was standing there. Our front door is impermeable, and so he had walked to our backyard in an attempt to get our attention. He and his wife, their 4 four old son, and their 6 week old daughter had stopped by to check out our new house.

I was happy to see them.

And yet, I was still having a bad night. I had yet to forgive The King his etiquette grievances. My rice crispy treats weren’t done yet. Babboo wasn’t in bed, although it was well passed his bed time. We still don’t have doors to our bathrooms. And the house was not in a very presentable state.

Luckily I still had my bra on.

It was good to see them. Truly it was. But I was horrified at the state they had found us in. The King was honest and told them they caught us on an off-night.

They stayed for a few hours just visiting with us. Babboo had a blast tearing about the house with their son. The newborn baby slept through the whole thing. My rice crispy treats were able to set up. And nobody needed to use our (door less) bathrooms. I also had time to (sort of) get over being pissed at The King.

When they finally left and we hurried to put Babboo to bed (and ourselves to bed, if I’m being honest), I began to realize that I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about their unexpected “drop-in”. Was I just plain happy to have seen our friends? Or was I horrified that they didn’t call ahead and give me time to at least put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and brush my teeth?

Seriously, I’m torn.

So tell me, what are your thoughts on people dropping in? Are you a dropper in-er, or are you the one that’s always being dropped in on?

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And because today’s Wednesday, head over to SeattleMomBlogs to hear what it’s like for a career woman to become a temporary stay-at-home-mom for the summer.