Where do I start?
It was a better day today. Since breakfast and lunch were digested normally. The cure today was tortillas. Yummy, fresh from the factory here in town tortillas. Yup. I have a lot of weight to gain if I want to hit the 200 mark again.
But then I did something disastrous. I brushed my teeth. While it’s a pain in the ass to feel like your doing your day under the influence of Nyquil, it’s easier than wondering when, what, and how much you’re going to hurl. And we had to go to Costco or else I would be sewing diapers from rags tomorrow.
My parents took the opportunity to spend quality time with the boys and me, and it provided the perfect opportunity to annoy and perhaps embarrass their youngest offspring at work. Not to mention, they needed to make a return. My parents are very efficient this way.
As my mother made the return, my dad took over the pushing duties, giving the boys a tour of toys, Christmas stuff (Is any one else slightly disturbed by the fact Christmas stuff is out?), Halloween treats, and costumes. My dad took great delight in trying to convince the boys that they should be Snow White or Cinderella. That made it so much easier for my mom to find us by following the screams of protest. After that, I took the wheel so that we could be finished before closing.
My mom’s big plan was to kidnap my children and send me home to rest and clean. But the fatal flaw in her plan was that she bought me a pizza. I had been craving one the day before, hoping that my baby brother had not demolished the Sunday one. (Yes, my parents go to Costco every Sunday and always pick up a pizza. One doesn’t understand why the baby brother waits until Sunday when he could buy one any day of the week.) Unfortunately my other little brother had been there, and he HAD demolished the pizza to fulfill the ultimate desire for meat that he lovingly sacrificed for his bride. Yesterday my mom had tried to satisfy my craving by offering a piece of cheese and bread, since those were ultimately what I wanted. Yeah. I laughed too. I wish I could go back in time and offer her a glass of milk during her daily ice cream sundae cravings.
So I sat munching on pizza as my mom whisked the boys to bed after they nibbled on their lunch. I listened to my dad rail about the problems of a nagging wife, a non-listening son, and the fears that my mother’s sister and husband would want to join us on the Alaskan cruise in 2011.
After an hour, I found my eye lids dropping, realizing it wasn’t safe to drive home. Since the boys were in my old bed, the other guest bed was stripped, I curled up on my parents bed to promptly go to sleep.
But I am blessed and cursed with the ability to sense when someone enters the room I’m sleeping in. No matter how deep I sleep (and I assure, I sleep deep), I wake up if some one just pokes his/her head into the door. I think it’s to make sure that if some crazy serial killer enters the room, he won’t be able to wrap his fingers around my throat while I sleep. Instead I’ll be able to grab the phone or lamb and bash his head. It also comes in handy when The Husband tries to insist he came home at midnight instead of 2:30 when the bars closed.
So my parents walked in and out of their room numerous times, but I played dead, knowing that if the boys woke, my parents would take care of them. By the time I woke for good, I was in no hurry to run home and back. Instead I watched the farming channel with my dad who is obviously suffering from a late mid-life crisis as he learns all about owning his own farm. Then my mom and I watched Dr. Phil, and I was able to congratulate myself on being an excellent parent as Tornado S snuggled up to me.
So basically that was my day. Oh, and some one else cooked me dinner. So what did you do? (And damn I can write a lot about nothing.)