I received a call from Joe’s teacher. “Joe is showing some unusual behavior.” She said. Unsure what she meant, I started visualizing different things. Turns out none of my visions were accurate. She was simply concerned he didn’t feel well. I made an appointment with his pediatrician. Come to find out, the kid was battling strep. The next morning, while taking Charlie to the dentist, I talked to myself about whether or not to take Charlie to the pediatrician.
The dialogue went something like this: “I should take Charlie to the doctor. He probably has strep. Dang blast it. I have that perfect part-time job #2 I have to tackle. Joe’s home from school. If I find out Charlie has strep, he’ll be home from school, too. How am I going to work two jobs with two kids at home? Did I leave the iron on? Wait. I don’t iron. Is there ice cream in the freezer at home?”
Actually, the dialogue better resembled Cameron, from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. “He probably has strep. He probably has strep. I’ll go. I’ll go. I’ll go.” Like Cameron, if I had not been driving during this conversation with myself, I would have gotten out of the car and jumped up and down in frustration.
Dear Mother Nature,
So, do you remember the movie ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer‘? Well, she started feeling cramps when the vampires were approaching. “Great,” Buffy says. “My secret weapon is PMS. That’s just terrific. Thanks for telling me.”
Mother Nature, I start to feel cramps when you approach me. Seems you are every woman’s personal vampire. (Though, I think most women would prefer a vampire like Edward in their life.) You surface once a month, sucking our energy, patience, humor and our ability to be rational. My friend – no, not you, Mother Nature, my real friend – told me that her daughter was recently added to your agenda. And, she told me that while walking with her daughter, her daughter began to cry and laugh at the same time while yelling, “I don’t know what I am feeling!” (Can I get an ‘Amen‘?)
While my friend’s daughter is just beginning the cycle, I realize my time with you is growing increasingly limited. I am also aware of the tricks you have up your sleeve before you leave me for good. Though a part of me may mourn your departure, I doubt I’ll throw you a going away party. I am glad you were (still are) a part of my life. Had you not visited me regularly, I wouldn’t have my two awesome boys. By the same token, had you not visited me, I wouldn’t have had to fix so many door jams, due to excessive door slamming.
I suppose, once you leave me, there will be cons to not having you visit. However, as I get older, I am not worried about the cons. I am focusing on the money I’ll save not having to buy the products needed for your visit. Oh wait, I suppose pads may be needed in my twilight years, too. Hmm… with that thought, stick around Mother Nature. I’ll leave the light on for you, and I may even bake you a cake.
Last night was bath night. And, I have come to the realization that I will deem it ‘bath night’ during certain family dinners.
Take last night for example, as the boys became increasingly whiny and cranky, I exclaimed, “Tonight is bath night!” And, once they were informed of the upcoming bath, I noticed the whining and crankiness diminished. Slightly.
More importantly, Blogary, my declaration sent a clear message to my husband, reinforced with a stern glare – um, I mean a loving glance: I have reached the brink, and I need reinforcements.
Blogary, I have also come to the realization that the boys are the cleanest during certain times of the month. Hmm. Interesting.