Okay, no, I really don't.
This morning was atypical. The little one is convinced she sprained her ankle last week, so we wrapped it up last night before bed (I made a concession usually I don't feed the hypochondria). Nothing to pin the ACE bandage with, so I neatly tucked it into itself and had her put on a long sock to keep it in place. Viola!
Then the cough medicine, because when she has a slight cough, in her mind, it's the Bubonic Plague and she's dying.
Fast forward to this morning...I should have known when I woke up, all hell was going to break loose because B was already up and watching Furious 7. Rarely does he wake up before me. Usually, it takes an act of God to get him out of bed in the morning (or some water...or an air horn).
I was in the downstairs bathroom and the little one woke up, went upstairs to my bathroom, then proceeds to fall down the last five steps...While I'm stuck on the toilet...She's screaming, B's screaming at her trying to get her to hear him, and I'm yelling from the bathroom because I have NO idea what's going on out there!
I finally get out of the bathroom, she's in her bed, in the dark, under a blanket, not making a sound. Nothing. No sobbing, no breathing hard, nothing.
So I say, "Are you okay?"
*silence*
"D! Are you okay?!"
Meekly, "Yes,"
"What happened?"
"I don't know. I fell down the steps."
"How many?"
"I don't know."
"All of them?"
"No."
"Most of them?"
"I don't know."
She's fine, her butt's a little sore, but she's fine.
Then B walks out the door for school. I look at him and he's wearing all K's clothes. We've had the conversation, nay, discussion, nay, screaming match on several occasions about not going into his brother's room while he's at school and borrowing his clothes a bazillion and a half times.
"How many times do I have to tell you to stay out of your brother's room and to STOP wearing his clothes?" I screech after him as he's walking away to go to school.
He ignores me. Big surprise.
Fast forward a little more (this portion was uneventful and boring YAY!) and my phone rings as I'm loading D into the car to take her to school.
Quietly, "Mom?"
"Hey, what's up?"
"Can you bring me a pair of pants? These have a hole in them."
*laughter* *snorting* *chortling*
"Mom?"
*takes a deep breath* *loses it again*
"You'll have to wait until after I drop D off at school."
"Okay." *click*
HAHAHAHAHA Karma! I love you so dearly right now...
Get D to school, drop off the pants, drop off treats I had promised some classes at the middle school, and I get back in the car to four missed phone calls.
One was The Patriarch and the other three were D. First voicemail she left was forty-seven seconds of silence. The second was something like this:
"Hi Mommy. You forgot *forced cough* to give me my cough medicine before I left for school. Can you *forced cough* please bring it up to school? I love you. Bye."
Seriously? My little hypochondriac is getting ridiculously out of control.
So what do I do? Go home, get the cough syrup, and go to the school to give it to her.
Why? Because I'm a sucker.
Meanwhile, I'm talking to my exhausted husband who had been working for forty-eight hours and just finally returned to his out of town apartment to eat, shower, and sleep. My head cold is in full swing and I'm bitching to him about how I'm tired and the kids are driving me nuts. He laughs and tells me he loves me.
I love him too, but I'm a little jealous that he gets to go to a quiet apartment and doesn't have to clean up all the crap that's piled up for the three days I was sick.
My kids. My husband. My life.
Never dull!
~Kim
photo credit: Medical (license)
Jeans (license)
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