Not Everyone Loves the Benylin...
Due to non-stop coughing, we had to do a medicinal upgrade. It was not what you would call popular.
"I hate that medicine. It makes my uvula barfs," Kaelan tells me.
"Your uvula?" I ask.
This surprised me - not the barfy part, more that the Dairy Queen commercial had made this much of an impact ("Uuuuvula!").
Seeing my surprise, Reece informs me with pride "I've seen my uvula."
"No!" I gasp.
"I looked in the back of my throat to see what was making me cough and there was this drippy thing hanging down. Do you know what it was?"
"My uvula," he explains - VERY seriously.
"Mom, there's no such thing as aliens," Kaelan puts out there.
"How do you know?" I ask.
They both give me "the look" - the one that says we do, for crying out loud we have to fill you in about UVULA'S!
Maybe I Need my own Secretary...
or Stop Having Mental Breakdowns...
or Take a Frickin' Pill Already...(call it what you want, I need a break)
So, both my sons are (are you ready for a giant surprise?): Freaking. Sick. Again.
I dial the FIRST school to let them know Reece won't be at school today and the secretary picks up, "Good morning!"
And it hits me - after a month of the rotating sick through the house I am just tired of making this SAME friggin' call, EVERY friggin' day. (Admittedly this is poor timing for an epiphany.)
I just heave a sigh into the phone...
"Hello?" she says.
Shit! "Hi, it's me - again... Terry."
She laughs, "Hi, Me Again! Oooh, is someone not coming?"
"Reece is sick, again. He has a bad cough, so he won't be there today," I explain.
"Oh dear, I thought I heard him yesterday. Wasn't he just away sick last week?" she asks, innocently.
"They're all sick! It's been FOREVER! It's NEVER GOING TO END!" (I realize I'm losing it, but seriously - it's getting to be a bit much.)
"I hear it can last fourtosixweeks," she tells me. This number comes out very fast (it could be she suddenly became a FAST TALKER - or possibly it was nerves from talking to a housebound parent becoming unstable, you be the judge).
"46 WEEKS?!" I scream into the receiver, "Oh my God, I'm already on week THIRTY!!!"
"No, no - four to six weeks," she repeats slowly, trying to reassure me (they must take a course "Talking Down Hysterical Parents for Dummies" - very popular with the school crowd). "So you see? You're almost there."
"Oh. My. God. I don't think I can take this anymore."
"Hopefully we'll see him on Monday."
Was this the end? OH NO! Then I had to call the NEXT bloody school while I was all 46-week-distraught.
Really? I am NOT having a good morning - but the good-mommy-handbook says you don't blast the secretary with that statement... It probably says you don't scream at them either. (I'm just guessing here... I never actually read it.)
"This is Kaelan's Mom and he is still sick," I tell her.
"Oh, still?" she says sympathetically.
And the grip I had begins to slip - slightly (and by slightly - I mean I COMPLETELY lost my mind...yet again).
"YES! STILL! It's never going to stop! It revolves through our house in a never ending germ swirl. I'm hanging a white flag on our front door so NOBODY comes near. By the time I ever get out of here I will squint up at the sky and say what the hell is that shiny ball up there?"
And that was probably too much information.
"Sounds like you have cabin fever," she says.
I have something alright.
I Didn't Need that Heart Anyway
I hate bugs. Hate is not a strong enough word. Uuber hate? Uuber fucking hate... They creep me out and scare the ever loving crap out of me.
What's worse? Bugs waiting to kill you when you've come out of the shower and you are VULNERABLE in your towel! I walk into my room and step over the "creature of doom" unknowingly giving it the view of a lifetime and scare the shit out of myself!
After screaming and OF COURSE I can't stomp the motherfucker, because - hey, BARE FEET right? I realize this bug looks a little mutanty...
I suck it up like a badass and lean in like a pro (and hope I've suddenly developed ninja grace if this thing can jump).
And - fuck...I've been scared shitless by killer string.