Shoulda Gone with My First Instinct
When I woke up this morning, I laid in bed thinking, "I just don't want to get out of bed today. If I get out of bed today, something bad will happen." Five minutes after this thought crossed my mind, my phone rang. It was my sister, Gina, in tears because she had gotten a B- on her Arthurian Legends paper. She went in to take her final today, and didn't know the answers to half of the questions on it. She wanted me to call in sick to work tonight and go get drunk with her.
So, I guess I don't need to say that there's a big fat difference between a mother who's trying to support her family and a 27-year-old college student.
Then my friend Amy calls on the other line (I still haven't gotten out of bed at this point) freaking out because her boyfriend, who is going to Iraq next week, is coming in town for the weekend, and her daughter had written all over her walls in crayon. She doesn't want Ryan to think she's a horrible housekeeper.
That feeling is still in the pit of my stomach that I don't want to get out of bed today. Zion starts yelling, "SARA! SARA!" from his bedroom. I reluctantly roll out of bed and go in and get him. Tell Amy I'll call her back, downstairs to fix breakfast.
Breakfast went ok, except that Zion threw a temper tantrum because I insisted he have eggs and toast instead of jelly beans.
About 11:15, he throws another temper tantrum - this is like the 11th of the morning - and I say ok, it's bedtime. Let's take some Robitussin before we go (cause he's been sick all week). Into the bathroom, I take the lid off of the Robitussin, put the dropper in, give him the Robitussin in the dropper, turn to the sink to rinse the dropper off, turn back around and poof - he's consumed half the bottle of Robitussin.
Insert freak out here.
I call the doctor's office - she says make him throw up or go to the emergency room.
Did I mention that I didn't even want to get out of bed today?
I call Mike in tears - he is no help whatsoever. Gotta love men.
I finally drag Zion into the bathtub, fully clothed (he's very confused at this point) and we sit down. I stuck the non-writing end of a pen in his mouth and he gagged and pushed it out. Did it again and voila - vomit all over the bathtub.
Ok, now it's time for a bath, right? Diaper removed.. big fat pile of poop falls out.
Ok, seriously. I should have gone with my first instinct and just stayed in bed.
So, I guess I don't need to say that there's a big fat difference between a mother who's trying to support her family and a 27-year-old college student.
Then my friend Amy calls on the other line (I still haven't gotten out of bed at this point) freaking out because her boyfriend, who is going to Iraq next week, is coming in town for the weekend, and her daughter had written all over her walls in crayon. She doesn't want Ryan to think she's a horrible housekeeper.
That feeling is still in the pit of my stomach that I don't want to get out of bed today. Zion starts yelling, "SARA! SARA!" from his bedroom. I reluctantly roll out of bed and go in and get him. Tell Amy I'll call her back, downstairs to fix breakfast.
Breakfast went ok, except that Zion threw a temper tantrum because I insisted he have eggs and toast instead of jelly beans.
About 11:15, he throws another temper tantrum - this is like the 11th of the morning - and I say ok, it's bedtime. Let's take some Robitussin before we go (cause he's been sick all week). Into the bathroom, I take the lid off of the Robitussin, put the dropper in, give him the Robitussin in the dropper, turn to the sink to rinse the dropper off, turn back around and poof - he's consumed half the bottle of Robitussin.
Insert freak out here.
I call the doctor's office - she says make him throw up or go to the emergency room.
Did I mention that I didn't even want to get out of bed today?
I call Mike in tears - he is no help whatsoever. Gotta love men.
I finally drag Zion into the bathtub, fully clothed (he's very confused at this point) and we sit down. I stuck the non-writing end of a pen in his mouth and he gagged and pushed it out. Did it again and voila - vomit all over the bathtub.
Ok, now it's time for a bath, right? Diaper removed.. big fat pile of poop falls out.
Ok, seriously. I should have gone with my first instinct and just stayed in bed.
posted by SevenHappyScrappers at 11:44 AM
3 Comments:
I am laughing with you - because although I can insert my own chaotic stories, my days and your days seem to be one in the same. Hugs to you Sara.
I'm surprised you're not calling in sick and joining dear ol' sis for some beers!
Greets to the webmaster of this wonderful site! Keep up the good work. Thanks.
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Greets to the webmaster of this wonderful site! Keep up the good work. Thanks.
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