*taps on microphone thud thud thud*
Is this thing on? Hello? Okay.
Hi, my name is Jenny. I'm a former smug parent who then had two more children in rapid fire style and believed that I was no longer smug. I've had my moments, sure. I have uttered blasphemies against the parenting gods. I have claimed my children eat balanced meals only to be smote by the onset of fickle tastebuds (or tastebugs, as we say around here.) I have trumpeted my bedtime successes every winter, only to be whacked by a sun that won't freakin' set until hours after that bedtime I crowed about each summer.
I have variously claimed excellent health (back to back to back colds) no odd illnesses (hand foot and mouth disease) and have scowled at parents of coughing, snotty children who are going about their shopping while my precious healthy darlings were in germ range (I've gotten the same looks while hauling my pj clad kids around the drugstore hacking and dripping and dangling from the cart.)
I know that the parenting gods are swift. I also know they don't miss a beat. I mean, come on. I blogged about getting a bunch of sleep and having crazy energy, and now, Franz, I am so veddy weak zat I can hoddly leeft a lemon. I blogged about my hula hoop aspirations, and my kids were so ill that it cut into my training routine. That's why I can't really be surprised about the state of the Circus. I blogged about my children's return to health.
I just got read the riot act by ye olde parenting gods. My oldest? So feverish and vomitrocious that we are on the verge of IVing. Add in the fact that she can't keep medicine down, and we're looking at suppositories. Because yeah.
But wait! That's not all you get... with this incredible deal I received a son covered with silver dollar sized spider bites that require constant attention. He's got 6 giant welts and I've got a date with an exterminator.
Incredible! There's more! My two year old has decided that now is a fantastic time to begin slugging, kicking or biting we who are so slow and stupid so that we may be chastened and also hurry our asses up.
That's right - puking! itching! kicking! It's unbelievable! Blog frivolously about bras and receive a bonus skin rash all over your face! It's red, it's ugly and it's all mine, because I acted (sure that the worst was over!)
If I post this in the next five minutes, I can look forward to explaining why my daughter can't go on her class field trip to the park on Thursday, if she's still sick, and even better, will likely miss the ice cream social/hula hoop contest. My chance to make a royal ass of myself in front of my peers and my daughter's friends, not to mention the faculty is in jeopardy and...and...uh, that's kind of okay with me.
I'm off to make an offering on the altar of the parenting gods. I'm giving them the last of the chocolate lucky charms because dayum that stuff is good. With the hubs due to leave on a business trip in the next week or so, I've got to humble myself, lest I come down with the sickies myself.