I don’t remember my mother being sick. I am sure that she must have been but other than the time she was bed-ridden after surgery for an injury, I have no memory of her being ill. I think that now I know why.
Because Mommies aren’t allowed to be sick. Why? Because the whole family falls apart!
Over the course of yesterday, my throat began to hurt, my head began to throb, and then the voice started to go. And if you wanted proof that God had a sense of humor, follow around a Mom with a fading voice while she tries to corral her two young kids.
So in my state of weakness, I made a rookie mistake.
I said to these terrors precious gifts from God that “Mommy is not feeling well. Please play together nicely and let Mommy rest until Daddy gets home”. Do you hear the Vincent Price maniacal laughter in the background? Do you hear the minor chords rising in the horror movie music? Or do you just hear yourself snickering? Because that’s what I would be doing if I were reading rather than writing.
So, of course, these bats straight out of hell angels heard this and in pure sympathy of their beloved mother, played quietly in their room. They got out only one toy at a time and shared. There was no squabbling. It was a moment of Peace on Earth worthy of a Nativity scene.
And if you believe that, I have a Madoff-style investment opportunity for you!
Oh my goodness! What my children can do in three hours!!! Or should I say what they can destroy in three hours.
First off, the bickering did not stop. You would think that between the two of them, one of them would have had to breathe — just once! They bickered so loudly and for so long that they could not hear me. If it weren’t me, I would have enjoyed the sound of my squeaking voice trying desperately to create enough decibels to be heard over the Duo of Destruction. but alas it was me so I did not enjoy it.
The bickering was just a small part, however. The bickering was a flesh wound. The mortal blow came from the Science. The Science? Yes. The Science. My seven year old’s idea of science.
Do not ask me what the purpose of the experiment was because that was never adequately explained. But when my daughter came to me soaking wet, I realized that investigation was required. Well, whatever the hypothesis or desired result, my “Scientific Discovery” was a bathroom with one inch of bubble-filled standing water (think Peter’s clothes washing episode in The Brady Bunch), a completely soaked bath rug and an empty hand soap pump and tube of toothpaste.
So when Daddy got home, all was well, right? Right? I thought so. After homework (Because, yes I still was in charge of homework!) I went to bed, leaving my husband with the children. I NyQuil-ed up and crashed.
And as if waking from a dream, I found a clean house and children prepared for school. Again, if you believe that and you have some cash you need parting with, give me a call.
There is a leaning tower of laundry, it is not possible to walk across my children’s floor (think Toys R Us after the store ran out of Tickle Me Elmos), and last night’s dinner still out.
So good morning to me! I guess that I am finished being sick. Now if someone could just explain that to my immune system.