Just another day...

Being out of school, while unbelievably depressing, in a way has given me a chance to breathe.


She Who Rules The House is stirring. I talk her into going back to bed with promises of Dora The Explorer. She's not really awake yet anyway. She joins Mr. EpiJunky and I in bed.

Something is poking me. I growl at Mr. EpiJunky and threaten his manhood. I realize Mr. EpiJunky is gone to work and it's actually my angelic little girl poking me with the remote control to the TV. "DORA...DORA...DOOOOORRRAAAAAA" she yells.

Dora is chastising Swiper. She Who Rules is in her happy place, eating cheerios. The Future Cardiologist is getting lazier by the day and is still in bed, probably dreaming about EKG strips. I check my emails.

It's quiet. It's too quiet. I investigate.

While my mild-mannered son has a future in medicine, my two-year-old has decided tattoo artist is more her style. She found two markers and drew all over herself in the five minutes I was distracted. I let a four letter word slip. She promptly repeats it. "What did you DO?" I ask.
"I dont know" She answers. She Who Rules the house has now become my tattoo'ed, lying, cursing two year old.

I swear to ban all markers not marked WASHABLE from my house. Where in the hell did she find those markers anyway?

The bathwater running wakes up Future Cardiologist. He pokes his head into the bathroom and says his head hurts. I direct him to the couch and let him know I'll be out there as soon as I finish scrubbing down his sister the tattoo artist.

I let the water out of the tub. 90% of her artwork is removed from her face, arms, and legs. I turn my attention to Future Cardiologist who clearly is feeling ill.

My son has children's Tylenol on board. My daughter is as clean as she's gonna get. Where'd that coffee go?

I now *heart* coffee. WHEEEEEEEE!

The Playdough is out and Future Cardiologist is *gasp* not at all interested. He hasn't moved from his spot on the couch and is begging me to turn the TV off. Then he tells me his neck hurts. Wannabe Medic Girl is in full force. Where's the damn thermometer?

Temp is 100. His head hurts, his neck hurts, and he's lethargic. I have him put his chin to his chest. He can do that easily. No, it doesn't hurt any worse when he does that. He's a little dizzy. I call his pediatrician.

I realize I gave him the wrong dosage of Tylenol. Half as much as he should have had. I give him the other half. I curse myself for being an idiot.

Okay, he's up and bouncing off the walls. No more headache, fever, or neck pain. I curse myself for being a hypochondriac. I pour another cup of coffee *gag* and relax while my children make a mess of monumental proportions. I decide the MoonSand must go away. I distract them with popsicles and toss the MoonSand and accessories. I vow to invest some more money in Playdough.

Lunch is served. PB and J's all around!

She Who Rules is down for her nap and none too pleased about it. Future Cardiologist is playing on his computer. I decide to do something constructive and get my Medic textbook out. I start to cry, put the book away, and play with photoshop for awhile.

Somehow the house is still quiet. She Who Rules is having a small snack, Future Cardiologist is reading a book, and Mr. EpiJunky made it home. I would normally be preparing for the hour commute to class, instead I'm watching Judge Judy. I have the same half tank of gas in my car that I put in there last week. I can't tell you the last time that happened. I don't have to drive 85 miles an hour with all the other maniacs. I don't have to spend money I don't have for gas. I get to be home for dinner.

I'll get that damn Glitter Patch yet. One way or another. At least in the meantime I can take a little breather. Enjoy life a little more. Think I'll go swing on the front porch for a bit. It's gorgeous outside.

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