My husband shares everything. He is a good man. He gives me his paycheck. He shares our kids. He even goes to the grocery store every other week for me. I really am a very lucky woman.....for the most part.
This week I wish that he wasn't such a sharing kind of guy! He came down with the flu on Friday. I tried my best to make him better, or at the very least, alleviate some of his suffering. I also tried to stay as far away from him as possible! I slept in another room even....all to no avail.
I have been walking around doing the "I'm not sick" chant for two days now. Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to have the affect it usually does. I hurt all over. My whole head feels like it may explode. And if I cough one more time, I think I may seriously injure a rib.
It's a shame that mom's are not allowed to get sick. I still have kids to get off to school, a house that has to be cleaned, and laundry screaming to be done. Why is it that the world doesn't slow down for you when you need it to?
To add insult to injury (or illness), my five year old daughter decided to be creative last night. Let me start by saying she isn't mentally deficient that I know of (although after last night I do question that statement).
Her little creative self thought it would be fun to finger paint on the side of the toilet. Just what would a five year old paint with? Markers, crayons, make-up, actual PAINT? Oh hell no! She didn't want to go with the normal standard of destruction that my other kids have used in the past. She's FAR more creative than that!
POOP!!! That's right, I said POOP! I still can't get my head around it. It was a lovely swirly design, complete with fingerprints...HERS. I was so flabbergasted I just cleaned it up first, asked questions later (okay, so I threatened her very existence if she EVER did that again).
As I was braiding her long blond hair, after getting her out of the bath last night, I just had to ask. What would make an anally retentive neat freak of a five year old do such an unspeakable thing....
After several moments to ponder the age old question of "why did you finger paint with your own poo?", she simply shrugged her shoulders and said, "It happens." I SWEAR TO GOD I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP!
So although I was seriously upset, the fact that my five year old tells me that "it happens" while referring to poo....my only response was to shake my head and say, "yes, $h&* happens alright."
Every day is an adventure at my house....sometimes not the good kind, either!