Sunday, February 19, 2012

Just pretend Mommy doesn't live here...

               Over the past couple of days, I have been living a nightmare. This particular nightmare is that of the stomach flu. The worst part of this stomach flu is that I am not the one who is actually sick. How can I be upset that I'm not the one who is sick?, you wonder. I will tell you why. Because if I am getting sick, I move my ass as fast as I can to a toilet or garbage or anywhere else that will cause the least amount of mess possible. The same is not true for Princess Particular or Squeakers.
               I am getting ahead of myself though. Lets back up to Thursday. Mr. Wonderful is out of the country for work. (this happens sometimes, and by Thursday I am ready to pack the kids in the car, head to the airport and just wait for his Friday 11am flight so I can hand them off and take the first flight anywhere. While silently screaming.) Princess Particular has her Daisy Girl Scout pinning ceremony, and on top of that I have to pretend to be a super helpful mom at her meeting that afternoon. Roughly 15 minutes before its time to go, she tells me her tummy hurts. I assure her she's just nervous and shouldn't be, and pack the carload of crap it takes to bring Squeakers anywhere.
              Once at the ceremony, the second I unpack Squeakers and start feeding her dinner, Princess Particular walks over to me, tells me she's going to be sick, and a split second later, my prized Cole Haan boots are ruined. If this wasn't bad enough, there were 11 Daisy Scouts screaming, "Princess particular pukkkkeed"
              Now these sort of situations are not my strong point; not only am I not the best at cleaning that sort of thing up, I also can't take a recreational Xanax to help me through this stressful time, PLUS there are 20+ actual adults looking at me to see how I handle this. Fortunately, The Grammie is with me as my +1, so she keeps shoveling food in Squeakers as I try to act like a responsible mom who isn't fazed in the slightest.
              I come to find out, in the middle of my hasty exit, that the stomach flu is circling kindergarten like an outbreak of STD's at college. WHEN the FUDGE was anyone going to tell ME? Four of the twelve Daisies were like the little monkeys from Outbreak and had this vile illness already. If I had any idea at all this was an epidemic, I literally would have taken Princess Particular out of school until it passed. I hate the stomach flu.

                  Driving home, I am filled with dread. I know exactly what is coming. The BRAT diet, loads of laundry, no sleep, and the urge to Purell everything in my home, including Squeakers. And after this plague has swept through the house, after I am exhausted, cleaned every surface imaginiable, and my kids get every ounce of energy back, I will get sick. SWEET.
     It is now Sunday, and I am pleased to say that I am still not sick. After a weekend filled with two sick kids, the horrifying details of which I can neither fully remember or choose to burden you with, things are somewhat normal around here. I had that slightly crazy look in my eye that told Mr. Wonderful that mommy may go batshit crazy from fatigue and the lack of one second alone in the last week, so he suggested I do something by myself today.
The best/easiest thing that didn't require me to get out of my pajamas I could think of was to go lay on my bed and read super funny mommy blogs. This is how my quality time with myself went:
12:00pm- lay on bed, get comfortable, go to some websites
12:04pm- Princess Particular comes in, with the laptop, and tells me it's broken. I make the necessary clicks, and she's back to playhouse Disney. She asked me if she can snuggle up with me, and I give her the most exasperated look I can muster, and tell her yes. Five year olds don't understand sarcasm. There goes my pillow, blanket, and space on the bed.
12:18pm- Mr. Wonderful figures out that Princess Particular isn't playing downstairs, and hops into bed with us too. In his best stern voice he says, "Princess Particular, Mommy is trying to rest. We need to leave her alone. Just pretend she doesn't live here" (What.the.fudge.?? super great choice of words darling)  
12:27pm- Squeakers wakes up from her nap, Mr. Wonderful "doesn't hear her" for about five full minutes. I sit there thinking, "I will not get out of this bed. I will not get out of this bed."
12:32pm- Mr. Wonderful hops into bed, and joyfully asks me how my alone time is going. I tell him, "It's not really alone time if you guys keep coming in here..." He leaves, dejected and I'm assuming a little annoyed that I dented his incredibly good mood. 
12:35pm- I lay there, shaking my head like Cameron in Ferris Bueller's Day Off, muttering, " I"ll get up. I'll get up. They'll keep coming in, they'll keep coming in... I'll get up." 

           I have to break out of this infirmary. My sanity will surely return, all I need is some fresh air and to check out the new frozen yogurt place in town. Get the stroller honey, we are all going on a happy freaking family walk. It will be great. (So help me GOD)
                                           But it's so sunny outside....

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