About Me? Okay:

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West Lafayette, Indiana, United States
I'm a somewhat crappy-at-it mom to a 21 year old, Genius Boy, & a blue & purple haired 14 year old, the Goddess of Grump. My language is questionable & I laugh at farts. Need I say more?

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Dear Today, You suck.

This is a bad day. A day I dislike. A day I'd like to curse with the rectal incontinence of a 20 year old cat.

I've been through 2 infants who refused to sleep like REAL babies until they were well past a year old, who stopped taking naps (for my nighttime sanity) before the age of 3, followed by a couple years of night terrors in my older one. I made it through. I'm allowed to complain about non-child-related sleep trouble now.*

I slept for just under 3 hours last night/this morning.
Insomnia is a spiteful bitch. She deserves an afternoon downwind of my 89-year-old, egg salad sandwich lovin' Grandpa. He eats his broccoli too. Just sayin'.
But I can handle her. I just get my princess off to school, maybe I unload the dishwasher AND put the dishes where they go (on a good day), switch laundry loads (okay that part was a joke), then give Insomnia the finger & take a nap.

But today is different.
Today, my baby boy is sick and home from school. Yes, he's 18 now. Yes, my little punkin butt is 6' 3".  Yes, he graduates from high school in a week and a half. Yes, he even has a job. 
But he's still my baby. My firstborn. Mommy's lil' man. Unfortunately, he's dangerously close to being a man FOR REAL now & we ALL know how men are when they're sick.
Conveniently, Genius Boy lives in a very stinky ginormous room in the basement. I do not. I'm upstairs (emphasis on stairs).
God love the cell phone era. He doesn't have to yell "MOM!" a hundred times or ring a bell for 15 minutes anymore. Nope. Lucky me, I get texted. And like every good mommy would, I respond within half an hour immediately.

So he's sick. My mildly asthmatic angel boy has a deep-chest chunker cough, a low grade fever, and ... wait for it ...
Pink Eye! WOOT!
*cue the 1970's biology class film reel music*
Wobbly Voiced Narrator:
"Known in the medical community as Conjunctivitis (-itis meaning inflammation; conjunctiv- referring to the conjunctiva, better known as the outer layer of the eyeball and the inner surface of the eyelid.), Señor Pink Eye has been torturing moms across the globe for, well, infinity."

A BIG thank you to my mom for raising me on the Boric Acid (yes I said ACID) eyewash. Thanks to this nugget of mommy wisdom AWESOMENESS, Señor Ojo Rojo del Diablo should be headed back to hell in 2 or 3 days. (Quit freaking out & go look up the ingredients of "red eye relief" eye-drops and multipurpose contact lens cleaner/disinfectant/RINSE. While you're at it, go look up home remedies for pink eye. Google may be able to help with that. The key is that the solution has to be VERY diluted... like 1/4 tsp for 8-12 oz. boiling water, which MUST be cooled down before use!)

So, my day (so far) has been a blast.

To top it all off, tonight is the annual Art Show reception at his high school, and GB is one of their prized art students, his photography portfolio having won a Scholastic medal at the NATIONAL level this year. (Hear that? Yep. It's my horn & I'm tootin' it.) However, we all know the school rules regarding contagions. And my lucky lil' guy has the fever/pink eye double whammy. Soooo, no Art Show for him.

The last great event of his high school career (fuck graduation, you're not special there), and he can't go.

I'm considering wrapping his ENTIRE head in gauze (leaving a tiny strip open across his pupils (think ninja) so as to avoid any doorframe or stairwell incidents), giving him a cardboard placard on a string to wear around his neck with something artsy written on it so he could pretend to be one of the display pieces. Then maybe he could go. I'd even wear a black catsuit, ballet flats AND a beret and follow him around giving finger snaps whenever he speaks.

But, at this point, what I REALLY want more than anything else is a NAP!

Oh!! I almost forgot! Earlier, Facebook politely informed me that 357 people "Like" Conjunctivitis. Seriously.


Oh well. I've got 2 hours until the GoG gets home from school. I'm turning off my cell phone, inserting earplugs and taking a nap. GB can climb the stairs if he needs me that bad.


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