The Husband thought he got it on Monday so he stayed home. Normally I like him at home. Monday? Not so much. He had a list of to-do items for me to do and none of them included my job, my other job and 2 hours of Overboard that I tivo’d from Saturday on TNT.
I endured, because I’m the good little Mrs., I mean, Ms. Oops I didn’t Take Your Name.
Then I got the call at 4 yesterday.
The Husband: I’m dry heaving. I think it’s because of the surgery.
That acid reflux surgery is tricky stuff. Apparently those who suffer from acid reflux will do just about anything to make it go away. To include having a surgery which makes it physically impossible for you to ever burp or vomit again.
When the doctor tells you that, you think, “Good. I don’t like throwing up anyway.”
Except when you have a stomach flu and the contents of your stomach now have to take the ultra long route out of your body.
Three hours round trip to pick him up last night in rush hour traffic because he didn’t think he could make it on the train. Then he was home today.
Twice in one week. It’s too much. Too much, I say. First of all, I had to alternate sleeping between the children last night because I’m about over this crap and I’m not nursing anyone back from death now. Everyone has had a chance to be the poor sick person and it is over. That ship has sailed. Or sunk, depending on how you look at it.
Which means I got to sleep with The Boy With Thirty Elbows. Sweet Jesus, could someone just let this kid Cry It Out and get it over with? Oh, that’s right. His crying it out means that no one sleeps in the house. Technicalities.
It also meant that Dad was The Ever Present Force in the house all. day. long.
The Boy: I don’t want to take a nap. I want to be with Dad.
Has anyone seen The Baby? I left him at his father’s feet only to find him 5 minutes later playing in his brother’s room upstairs. Apparently the dirty virus BLINDS you as well.
There was an incident where someone drove 1 1/2 hours in the rain to a doctor’s appointment that is on MONDAY. Deserted office, three doctors present. You think they could just take The Baby and give him his shots. I mean, he hasn’t had any for at least two weeks. But NO. They kindly offered me an appointment 7 hours later. Like I have nothing to do. 1 1/2 hours home. I canceled Monday’s appointment. Screw the vaccinations. He’s had like 900 shots. How many more can he possibly need?
The kids both screamed for an hour today. I don’t know why. I asked repeatedly and no one answered me. They just kept screaming. It was like a Scream Off. The Olympic sport of Screaming. ABC’s Wide World of Screaming. I’m not going to say who deserved the gold but I may have dragged someone screaming out to the car with threats of going to the ER. He actually went apoplectic. Crazed. Psycho. Then silent. There is a God and he loves me.
What kind of mother threatens to take her child for elective stitches?
A berry, berry tired one.
Share on Facebook