Monday, September 15, 2008

A Week Gone A-Wry

So it wasn't exactly the most productive week of my life, but by Friday, at least we had all 50 toes and 50 fingers accounted for before the next week began.

And that's saying a lot. If you would've been hanging around the place and getting a full scoop of what happened, you'd be checking on your fingers too.

First off on Monday, we ha----- no wait. Let's start on Sunday...

While away on leave for Britt's wedding, I got the word that I am the new teacher for my new Sunday School class. And what that means is that I have to count the students ladies in my class, tally the offering and then start the lesson. Not a huge deal at all -- it's not like I have to stand behind a podium and give a chalk talk or anything. Teaching that first Sunday's lesson I actually enjoyed. A lot. I think I tend to talk way too much to not enjoy something like this.

The only time this designated responsibility may become a difficult thing is when one of the kids wakes up sick Sunday morning, the dog runs away, the van won't start and I can't find my Sunday School book 5 minutes before class starts. Other than that, I think it'll be okay for at least a year.

Like we always do on Sunday afternoons, we enjoyed nap time. Well, Janae and Alex enjoyed nap time; I attempted to enjoy it while Landon attempted to not enjoy it. Let's just say I had a pretty disturbing nap.

Monday came like it usually does after Sunday and what did we find but rain! rain! and more rain! That automatically entitles Dad to a day of bookwork in the basement while the green grass outside grows greener. After a full day of putting in a pretty big quota of bookwork, I dragged the half-decomposed-man up from the basement where he had practically fermented and we went on a nice family walk.

So, not much exciting has happened in the week so far. Wait till you hear about Tuesday...

Okay, so Tuesday comes and before I was even out of my early morning bed, I learn the dreadful news that my dear loving husband is SICK! With the flu. As he dresses for work and heads out the door I strongly suggest lovingly imply that perhaps today would be a good day to take advantage of those sick days he never uses when he's sick and call the boss and tell him he thinks that this time he may just have a rare and infectious disease and should perhaps stay home so as not to start an epidemic or anything.

I have a few strong feelings about Toby's boss and my conclusion is that the guy must be a work-a-holic who drives his workers to near fatality. Why? Because Toby rarely calls in sick. Oh wait... I guess he is the boss. Well, never mind on that theory then.

So, he goes out the door with a can of toxic waste pop and leaves. Just like that. He's gone. I wave to my "in sickness" husband while I watch him wearily head to the work force.

About an hour later, I call him. You know, just to make sure he's still breathing and everything. I could hear the strain and pain in his voice when he weakly informed me in just a few words, "I'm coming home, honey."

I made every effort I could to not retaliate back, "I TOLD YOU SO," but the only thing I seemed to stifle was, well, I guess it all came out like that. (I wanted him to know that I'm always right that I was going to be glad to see him.)

He came home and though I made every effort to dote on him, he resisted all suggestions of health and wellness that I recommended and instead, went back down to the fermenting basement and had a pretty steady PC Diet. (Eat as much Pop and Candy while using the Personal Computer.)

Now folks, I should've put my foot down, really, I should've. But apart from nailing my foot to the floor, it just doesn't stay down. But, by Wednesday, my normally submissive spirit exploded into a fervent devotion to my husband's well being and I did just that: painfully nailed my foot to the floor.

He soon was happily stuffed full of vitamins and tea and everything else in the kitchen that I knew he'd hate eating that was supposed to help him feel better. By bedtime on Wednesday, he was feeling much better.

But, back to Wednesday... so I'm running around like a beheaded chicken trying to keep the kids in line, keep Toby alive and get my work done.

Alex was a bear. Janae was playing wedding. Landon was hunting in the backyard. Okay, now all three of those activities take a lot of focus on my part. And in the midst of all that, Alex got ink written on his face, Janae had ink circles on her arm, Landon found the scissors, and Janae's very own quilt that I made for her got cut in half.

I was pretty much beside myself with with feelings of anger and retaliation shock but I kept my feelings on my sleeve in check and made it quite clear that SCISSORS were off limit as well as FINGERS and QUILTS and anything that was designed to be used more than once. Basically, they can play with Styrofoam plates and empty toilet paper rolls.

So then on Thursday, Toby says he feels better and I am strangely looking forward to having a normal day again. While he gets ready to leave for work later in the day and not in the usual early morning (because the weather man called for rain all morning), I am moving around the house doing typical mom things. You know like making lunch, fixing my hair, finding a piece of wet-fruit-fly-covered-toilet-paper behind the toilet, cleaning the bathroom, noticing white fuzzy stuff on the bathroom wall, you know typical mom stuff...stuff? STUFF? growing on the bathroom wall? As in like fur stuff coming right up the wall?! What is going on? I thought this was America?

And then I remember that call someone (who's name I won't mention) made recently to the plumber. The Plumber that should've been here weeks before but he wasn't called until, well, like yesterday. (at a later time and a later date, I will perhaps delve into the details surrounding the leaky pipe.)

So then Friday and Saturday and Sunday roll around like they usually do on the weekend and with them came more rain. Thankfully, other than the rain, nothing was too eventful until Sunday night when Landon crawled in bed next to me with a bad stomach ache. A really bad stomach ache.

Deja vu? All over again...

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