Monday, October 28, 2013

"Momma, Party of One?"

If the dingbats in Washington would listen to a certain Georgia girl, I could get rid of the national debt in one year. The solution? In-patient vacations at General Hospital. As the government is already trying to flush our health system down the toilet, there’s no reason that this shouldn’t be covered as preventative mental health care. If they would charge $50 a night, they’d have China paid off yesterday.

 Picture it…*enter wavy dream sequence…* I’ve had one heck of a week. Monday morning, I get a call from Rae-Rae’s school. “Hi, Mrs. Cox, this is Ms. Clancy from the clinic at the primary school. I have your son here in the office, and we have a little problem.” Oh, Lord, this is not starting off well. I usually make it till at least noon before getting a call. “Reagan came in this morning with a cast on his arm.” WHAT?! Why, thank you for letting me know. He must’ve snuck out to the emergency room after morning snack. “During art time, he stuck a crayon in his cast, and we can’t seem to get it out.” OK, since when does this constitute an emergency? Believe me, when you have my three children, this is nowhere near an emergency.

Wednesday, my little Blondie’s teacher calls. “Yes, Mrs. Cox? This is Mrs. Ortega at the preschool. I’m a little worried about Emma. We always ask the children to use the restroom before laying down for nap time. When she didn’t come back out to her mat, I went to see what she was doing. She has locked herself in the bathroom, apparently flushed her left boot down the toilet, and is laying in the floor singing ‘I Want A Hipponoppadus for Christmas.’ Unless you can tell me how to coax her out, I’m going to need you to come to the school to get her.”

Thursday is usually my day for running errands, and this week was no different. I’ve spent 3-1/2 hours in the grocery store trying to find the ingredients to make the ‘Rock ‘Em, Sock ‘Em Rotini Rumble’ off of Pinterest, and I can’t find seem to find the Rocky Mountain oysters anywhere. (Shouldn’t they be beside the deviled ham spread?!) But I’m in a rush, so I grab some Jimmy Dean, and I’m on my way.

No sooner am I out the door than my phone rings.

 “I’ve been trying to call you for an hour.” Why, I’m fine, honey, and how are you? So glad you called.

“What is the pass code for my truck?” Yes, I slept like a baby last night! I was just enjoying a Mocha Frappy-hunky-chunky-chino deluxe, hold the froth. And what can I do for you this beautiful morning?

“I have been calling you for an hour. What’s the code?” Well, aren’t you glad I have the memory of a Keurig filter? All the chunks that need to go in the trash hang out while all of the good, juicy stuff drips right on through. But since he was so kind, I told him the code.

Ah, Friday at last! Wait just a dad gum minute…I’m a stay at home mom…this TGIF stuff is a bunch of crap. “Congratulations, you survived the first round of motherhood: waking the sleeping monsters, fixing three breakfasts and three lunches in six minutes, time trials at the Pre-K Speedway, and six hours of fighting when they get home.

 “On to Round Two: the weekend! Since you survived Round One, we’ll be taking away the break of school hours today and your lifelines are gone, sucker.

Today’s activities will include:

• Early Bird Gets The Worms (And Puts Them In Your Pillowcase)
• Who Put The _______ in the _______ ?
• Which Burns Longer: Cheerios, Ziploc bags, or Human Hair?

 “Should you survive today’s activities, guess what? You get to do them all over again tomorrow with half, yes, HALF the patience of today. Good luck, and Godspeed.”

 ‘God, speed my butt through to Monday’ is more like it.

But back to the national economy… you’ve made it till Friday night, but your will to survive is struggling…badly. So what do you do? You call 911, and make a reservation for one in the deluxe suite. You know, the one with the remote control lift bed with no children; the 36-inch flat screen sans cartoons; the hourly delivery of cold pillows and warm blankets, hold the dried boogers; and the IV Combo #3, with extra morphine and Ambien.

 Upon check-in, you’ll be asked to select meals for the duration of your stay. Don’t worry about packing; you’ll be lounging in the finest Egyptian cotton pajamas (washed by someone else) and Sleep Number slippers. Should you like a massage during your visit, please pull the red cord in the shower, or press the “I’ve Fallen and I Can’t Get Up” button on the remote control. If you feel the urge to talk or share your feelings with others, you may choose from a complimentary, en suite psych consult, or group therapy in the Chapel. Television programming includes the Nicholas Sparks network, Lifetime, the Home Shopping Network, and a range of new releases available On-Demand. But believe me: there ain’t no Nickelodeon or Disney Junior up in here. Doc McStuffins can shove it where the sun don't shine: McSteamy’s on call tonight.

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