It started when I got sick. It was a weird sick, a sick that you feel that you have to prove that you are sick. See mom, I'm not screwing off here. I feel terrible. Please don't make me go to school.
Do you have a fever?
Go to school.
But I was sick. It started on a Friday for me. A little twinge in my throat, but I was still up and moving. Then Saturday came and I felt worse. By Sunday I was begging for bed, I was begging for sleep. Hossmom helped me out.
Then Monday came. Hossmom had to go to work. And when Hossmom came home? She got sick. That was the tipping point in the house.
Hossmom likes to tell me she's tough, that she can tough it out physically. Then she points out that she gave birth twice and has no problem with toughing out big pain. This is the same woman that I've seen in tears from getting whacked in the face by my 3 year old son. Maybe she should have gotten his beer faster!? Ha, man am I going to pay for that one when she reads this. But I have learned to never, under no circumstances, to question a women and birth. Ever. Doesn't work out well, my friends.
So Hossmom tells me that she is tough and points to birthing our two children. Never mind the fact that she was so drugged up that Charlie Sheen would consider her "winning." But when it comes to sickness, Hossmom is a big pussy. Huge wimp. Gigantic.
Now we are both sick but the kids are not. Other parents reading this will truly realize how awful this is. You still have to parent, no matter how you feel. And out of the two of us, let's just be honest, I'm more functional than the lady curled in the fetal position locked in the bedroom.
I had the kids and I was sick. I did the only thing that I could think of, the only solution that was sensible. I went to ground.
I let the kids run the house. They got whatever they wanted. Poptarts for breakfast. Absolutely, great idea. Wear bathing suits to the store. Even better. Buckets of ice cream for snack time? Why didn't I think of that before?
Two huge bottles of glitter, glue, a pack of markers and a lot of bare walls? Here, go at it. I have perhaps gone to far at this point. But I was on my own, it was a survival instinct. I let the kids basically run the house. They wanted the glitter and glue. I wanted to lay on the couch while not getting jumped on. At the time it seemed like a really, really good idea. It was the beginning of the end.
Our house now looks like a bunch of tinker fairies had a gang bang and then killed a unicorn as a sacrifice. Hossmom went back to work to get a break. I've let the house go at times but even this is a touch much. The glitter just won't come off. Anything. It's everywhere.
But to Hossmom's credit, she didn't even question me when she saw what had transpired. She went back to bed.