Since you haven't heard from me all week, let me explain.
I suffered severe injuries when I threw myself in front of a charging buffalo to save a small child who was picking flowers in the meadow. I have been lying in a hospital bed in a full body cast for a week now. I am fed through a tube and am typing this with a pen held between my teeth.
Not really, but that does remind me of the time that I was having sharp pain in my side and decided to go to the emergency room. I was pretty sure that I was dying. I had the good sense to stash a book in purse before I drove myself there. They put me in a room, covered me with a heated blanket and closed the drapes. I got to lay on the bed, alone with my book, for a good hour. It was fabulous. Occasionally people came in to poke me with a needle but I didn't even mind. I was so fucking relaxed. Apparently a trip to the ER was not only informative, but rejuvenating too. Since it turned out that I was not dying, I could have taken the money and checked into a real spa. Because I am unable to spend money on myself like that without guilt, I instead chose to extract my R and R in the ER. Pa.the.tic.
Here is the truth:
It was a hideous week full of viruses. Thing 1 brought some crud home from preschool, then shared it with Thing 2, who then shared it with me. Then my computer decided to join in on the fun and it contracted a virus as well. I spent the week blowing stuff the color of a yellow highlighting pen out of my nose, barely avoiding fainting, not sleeping (or breathing) and finally had the good sense to get antibiotics. Okay, I didn't have any sense. My friend instructed me to do it; and because I was functioning at 3% brain capacity I mumbled "oh" and somehow managed to follow her instructions. I finally started to feel semi-human, so I went to a party on Saturday night, that was so wrong that it was all kinds of right, and drank myself right back into feeling (and looking) like ass. It was worth it though. And I have the pictures to prove it. You all had better be kind to me! Muahahahhahahah!
This week was also Thing 1's preschool Christmas Program. As I sat in the crowd watching my precious child whack the one standing next to him with his jingle bell stick I felt so.... what is the opposite of proud? The singing was adorable though. The teachers clearly worked hard to show the kids hand motions to do during parts of the songs. My favorite one was when Thing 1 turned to the child standing next to him, looked at his fingers then promptly poked them into his new friend's eyes. Wow. I don't even have words for that. I have obviously done a stellar job with parenting. I think I will now try for a third boy. I will then call the three of them Larry, Mo and Curly.
We rounded out the week with "white trash family day". If you and your loved ones have not participated in this yet, get your ass in gear and join the rest of us. "White trash family day" must occur on a Sunday. You must put together an ensemble that would cause a make-over show to jump you with a chloroformed gag, 3 ropes and room full of mirrors to point out every flaw in your judgement. You must not wear make-up. You must put your children in outdated/too short "play clothes". You must let your husband walk around with his fly unzipped. You must eat fast food, in the fast food restaurant, with your sunglasses on your face and your children crawling under the booth. You must then go to bed in the clothes you wore all day. "White trash family day" is not only about promoting family togetherness, it is also addressing the much larger issue of reminding you that you are absolutely not immune to hangovers, even at the ripe old age of 35. Oh, but that party was worth every bit of suffering today.
In short, I am sorry to be so delinquent with my posting. I still have a few kinks to work out of this computer and I should be back to my normal, 12% level of functioning, any day now.
I will leave you with a picture that Thing 1 drew of my husband. The resemblance is uncanny.