Dear Navy Federal. Get a drive through.

We pile through the double doors into our landlord's bank.  It's rent day and, yes, here I am, that woman with the four children.

The floors are gleaming, the pillars and desks and walls are shiny and sleek.  The light bounces off every polished surface. Every head on every well-groomed, suited and heeled body looks up.  We tumble in.  The girls are fighting again over whose turn it is to push the handicapped button that opens the door.  There are two buttons for two sets of doors, so any way you look at it there's a dilemma!

I hiss and snap my fingers and gather them into the cordoned line. Thankfully there's only 1 person ahead of us. I take a breath, glance at Sparky's nose as he sits on my hip.  Good, I must have remembered to wipe it in the car.

I look around at the girls. Sunshine is hanging on the cords and staring at everyone she can through her bedraggled hair. Okay, check, she's good. Nothing out of the ordinary here.  Yeah, standards are low.

Then I see Turtle's face. There is a noticeable smear of peanut butter across the corner of her mouth from lunch.  I suppress the urge to hiss at her once again that "napkins are not just for babies and people need to wipe their faces after eating!!"  I realize I'm kind of a wretched mother for not noticing before, at the house or in the car.  And she's almost nine, for Pete's sake!  At least she has a ponytail in.  

Rosebud's dark head is unbrushed as well. Sigh.  The front of her coat looks like she works as a car mechanic.  Nothing new.   I really need to give them a once-over before we leave the house, even if it is only for this 10 minute errand, like today.  Now Rosebud turns and I am horrified to see a whitish clumped streak of food in her hair!  I really am the worst mother, I berate myself inwardly, taking my 4 homeschooled kids out in public looking like ragamuffins!  What am I thinking??

Oops, that's the teller calling me up to the counter. I snap my fingers at my kids again and beckon. I keep my eyes straight on the man's face, ignoring the state of my children.  I think Sunshine's mouth is on the counter, and maybe the chained pen is being used by Rosebud as a tattoo applicator, but I'm not going to glance and see. At least Sparky isn't fighting me.  And he has a clean nose!

The bank teller hands me my receipt and before I can say "thank you," Sparky, his dark eyes wide, looks right at the man and with his mouth open: BUUUURRRRRPPP

I don't miss a beat. Fighting a urge to laugh and/or run away, I shepherd my flock out the double doors in what feels like extreme slow motion. The squabbling over the handicapped buttons revs up again and I squelch it by pushing the buttons myself.  My children rush on to the metal railings to practice their gymnastics. 

My head is held high.  Bank locations idiotic enough not to have a drive through can take what's coming to them. 

See you next month!