Yesterday, we woke up and dressed for the big school drop-off, only to discover that both kids had fevers. I've got a sore throat, which somehow doesn't accurately describe the painful nature of it. My son, too. We're rasping and cranky.
I'd even go as far as saying I'm surly.
I just finished reading A Breath of Snow and Ashes, Diana Gabaldon's final (I think) book in her Outlander Series. Yeah, it's a historical/time-travel/romance complete with pirates and bodice ripping. Talk about escapist reading...like cotton candy for the brain. I loved the whole series.
Anyway, the main female character, Claire, has horrible things happen to her all the time, and she is always rescued by her hot Scottish husband. Well, except for that time she had to kill a wolf with her bare hands, which she accomplishes neatly. She's a tough gal, that Claire.
This latest book had her suffer even more indignities, which she handled by going apeshit on her attackers when she wasn't tied up.
This is sort of the approach I've been taking when the kids come flying at me, tattling and whining. Not the whole banging the war-helmet and biting the shield business, but I do have a touch of the Berserker in me.
Take yesterday, for example. The kids were home sick (sigh) and I was loading the dishwasher. A war broke out in the living room, over the new xylophone. Someone rapped someone else's knuckles with the mallet. There was a scream of indignation, and then a chorus of "Moooooooom! He/She hit me!"
My blood pressure shot up to 9 million, and I seized two of the pot lids that I was washing. Banging them together like cymbals, I tore off into the living room, trailing soap suds and roaring like a lioness. "STOP!" I howled, still clanging the pot lids. I lifted the gleaming metal overhead and made sort of a hoo-hoo-hoo grunting noise, legs in a second-position demi-plie. I must have looked like a rampaging gorilla.
With a final clang of the pot lids, I returned to the kitchen. The kids sat in stunned silence for a good ten minutes. I finished the dishes.