sick

love is...sleeping in an upright position so that your infant can breathe, because she is congested and too little for pillows or medicine. (and by sleeping i mean not sleeping.) this is how i spent most of my night last night. propped up with pillows, child in the crook of my arm...neck in a weird position. both kids have been sick with colds for a few days, and last night the unicorn shed her horn and decided it was her time to rage against the machine. she was seriously pissed off that she couldn't breathe out of her nose, so just went ape shit about 11pm. i was just crawling into bed at that time when i heard her losing her mind on the monitor. why does it always happen that way? i mean, she was quiet up until the point of me wanting to lay down...and then magically she woke up and was like, "hell no mother, no sleep for you." butch was scratching his ass asleep at this point, so there was no movement (or help) from that side of the bed. (no worries, champ...i got this.)

after a restless night, at 4:30am she woke up for another bottle and i "woke up" as well. (i was awake the whole night.) before this, with my free arm...i was playing games on my phone, checking email, reading a book...and plotting butch's death. he was snoring, laying on his side, (peacefully) and everytime i would look at him...i wanted to bend my leg violently and jam my knee into his ball sack. so anyways, at 4:30...carrie started crying and i leaned over to make a bottle on the nightstand. (at this point, i can do this task with both eyes closed, one hand behind my back.) warren awoke from his slumber and stared at me, then said, "wow! it's 4:30! she made it really long without a bottle." (i hope you are wearing a cup, butch.) she wouldn't go back to sleep after this, so i said, "listen, i'm going in the other room, you can have her for a few hours so i can try to rest." (i felt like throwing up at this point. i was physically sick from being so tired. dramatic? yes. true? yes.) i went over to carrie's room, curled up on the futon and fell asleep. at 7am, i heard butch sighing loudly and stomping around. i opened one eye to see carrie's legs flailing in the air, heinie out on the changing table...and no butch. i sat up. he came into the room and said, "no wipes! there are no wipes anywhere!" (exasperated.) ella woke up around this time, too, and was complaining that her "ear hurts." (SERENITY NOW!)

and so, around 8am this morning (with one eye open and a large coffee in my hand) i went to urgent care with ella. ear infections and i do not play. (one time i didn't know she had an ear infection and ended up with a 105 fever. i almost shit my pants.) these urgent care places are convenient, but borderline creepy. the two secretaries eyeballed me as i walked in the door with ella in my arms...her hair looked like she just came off the stage of an 80's rock and roll concert. (mine looked the same.) we both looked rough. (but not as rough as the two behind the desk.) i filled out the paper work and we sat and waited...until an extra large (probably about 3 bills) and tattooed man with a lip piercing (aka...the "nurse") strolled out and called for us to come back. ella looked frightened. (i put on a brave face...but i was also concerned.) the nurse (using the term loosely, again) took her temperature and asked me 238 questions (including, "does she do drugs and alcohol?" i replied without missing a beat..."only on the weekends.") he smirked and said apologetically, "sorry, we have to ask everyone..."i've been up all night pal, i'm in no mood for games, or stupid questions...get your shit together. i was thinking, she's two...i assure you she was not smoking a bowl in her carseat and slamming vodka out of her sippy cup on the way here. (idiot.)

 it's like every medical school reject was employed by this place...and exhibit C was the doctor. this guy did not walk into the room...he bounced. i'm a bad judge of age...but i'd say he was a few over 50. he was bald on top, gray hair on the sides, a disney tie, and a molesterish disposition. he was a like a cartoon character wearing khaki pants, weird shoes, and just so happened to have a medical degree. i think you can tell a lot about people by how they treat children and animals. while we were waiting (and waiting), i had taken out two tongue depressors out on a stool for ella to "drum"...and i had also blown up a glove to make a hand balloon. he was not amused. he said to ella (but looking at me?), "hellllooooooooo beauuuutttiifullllll....can you tell the nice doooccttorrr what is wronnggg???" i made eye contact with her and i kid you not, if she could've verbalized it, she would've said, "get me the eff out of here...what kind of clown town did you bring me in to here!?" (i had to bite my lip to stop from laughing.) i said, "tell the doctor what hurts you..." she said, "my froat, my ear, and i toff." (my throat, my ear, and i cough.) he was still staring at me, not her. staring at me like a CREEP. i mean, i'm in sweat pants, a jean jacket...no makeup, wearing my (hot) glasses and he was eye eff'ing the shit out of me. (for the love of...) as if laverne and shirley the secretaries and mr. T the nurse weren't enough...now we have a goofy guy my dad's age wearing a mickey mouse tie...and a hard on. (get me outta here.) anyway, he examined ella and came to the conclusion that it was just a cold. (her ear was slightly inflamed, but didn't think she needed antibiotics.)

i left urgent care and hour and a half later with a (still) sick kid, a piece of paper explaining it was just a cold...and a plethora of material to write about. if i don't get a nap this afternoon, i may puke or pass out. (i'm that tired.) if that saucy bitch (hurricane) sandy blows into town and knocks out our power in the next few days, i will flip shit. (laura ingalls wilder, frontier woman i am not.) on the other hand, even though my children are sick...i know things could be a lot worse. (i'm lucky that they just have colds.) i'll continue to laugh at their antics, and try not to cry when they are crying in the middle of the night. (even though i sometimes want to.) at least i know i can always head back to urgent care for a laugh when needed...i can only hope mr. T and company are on duty when i go.