Remember when lamenting over which fabric and type of window treatment I'd use in the family room was my great stress in life? Bwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaa!
Yes. Well. (Regaining my composure.)
Times have changed.
The kids' mom is in the hospital (just a little slice of drama). Yes, they see her. Twice a week. And I said I never wanted an open adoption. Teeheeheeheeheeeheeheee! Joke's on me! This isn't even an adoption. I'm the unpaid babysitter.
OK. I'll stop now or risk turning into Uncle Albert on Mary Poppins and this post will end with me in tears.
The kids' mom is in the hospital. I found out yesterday. After stopping at the store for flowers, a Dr. Pepper (for her), a Diet Coke (for me and somewhere to put the flowers we just bought), and a card- I picked up the girls from school and we went for a visit at the hospital. I hate the smell of hospitals. Costco, home late, homework...loverly.
This morning my personal assistant rings and it's the school. My phone is never too far because my worst fear is missing a call from the school, or CPS, or our attorney, or Jim McMan calling to tell me I've won a huge cash prize and can I please call security to let him in at the gate.
It was the third grade teacher. Miss8 is complaining of a tooth ache. She's anything but a whiner so I know she's owie. I get us a last minute appointment at the dentist which I've been putting off until we are just more than glorified babysitters and they can be on our insurance. I'll be damned if I don't encourage my son to go to dental school. Holy Shiznat! So while she is on antibiotics for the next ten days, I have exactly ten days to get a second opinion. We get home and have a little visit with the family they lived with previously. This means ten kids running back and forth through the house squealing and "Aaaargh-ing!" like Pirates. "Please chew the chips at the table!" "Dear Lord thank you for blessing me with a baby who will sleep through the next elephant stampede!"
The bottle of barbecue sauce is still sitting on the counter as a reminder that I did not get out the crockpot before I left. I pack up half the kids to go buy Whoppers and Husband works on math with the other half. Or I think it was half. Whatever. My math needs work. I took whoever had their shoes on. Prior to my day going to hell I made manipulatives to learn place value. Just in case you were wondering...No child left behind is leaving a boatload of them in the dust. I have never so strongly considered home schooling, except oh, wait. I can't! I'm just the sitter. Actually that's not fair. Technically and legally I'm just the sitter, but the tender mercy that has gotten me through the day and probably the next week happened while at the dentist.
Miss8, who was beaming with excitement like it was Disneyland because she's never been to a dentist before, tells the dentist..."ManCub and Juju have the same birthday!"
"Who's Juju?" Dr. Stacy asks.
She looks right at me and without hesitation, "She's my baby sister."
I try not to cry and I beam with pride. The dentist is thoroughly confused.
Sometimes I want to run away, and I do after putting three of them in the jogging stroller. I feel anxiety, anger, guilt, confusion, stress, and question at every turn what the hell we think we're doing here and then one of the laundry-making gremlins mouths off with something like that.
I'm really, super glad I let someone else come up with a Master Bedroom Moodboard for my birthday last month. Let someone else stress about which fabric and window treatment I hang. Best twenty-five bucks I've spent all year! Not like I was going to be off on my own getting a mani-pedi any time soon.
Didn't she do a great job?
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