Last week my blog was all puffy hearts, sparkly rainbows and glittery unicorns.
Okay, maybe not the unicorn part, but it did feel very Lisa Frank-ish with the S.W.A.K. Carnival in full swing.
And I loved it. I enjoyed reading your love stories and feeling inspired. I think if we compiled my posts with your comments, it would make a pretty excellent marriage guide.
But, WYSINWYG (what you see is not what you get).
Because, y’all, I was having a bad week.
I couldn’t exactly stop the love-fest with a “Oh my word, do I have a story for y’all!”
So, other than a few cryptic tweets, I waited until today.
Because as it turns out, I rock the THAT family moments.
The week started off with my 2 year old and a horrible infection. While I will not go into details (be thankful), I will tell you that on Tuesday, my baby endured the most horrific procedure in the office with a pain shot, while her Dad and the nurses held her down.
I just wept quietly in the corner.
My knees go weak just recalling it.
(She is completely better and God had more than a little to do with that).
That same afternoon, my 9 year old returned from school looking pale. She was diagnosed with the Flu (strand B, not covered by the flu shot we got) the next morning in the same office. Our reputation proceeds us.
I brought home $125 worth of Tamiflu for the entire family. My left eye is still twitching from writing that check.
My son, the healthy one, continued going to school. Towards the end of the week, I had run out of favors and actually had to pick him up from school. I let my oldest stay in her pajamas because it was going to be a quick trip.
And that’s when my car stalled in the car line.
With eleventeen million cars behind me and in front of me.
I think I handled the white trash moment in stride. With the toddler on my hip and my flu-ridden, pajama-clad embarrassed girl on the sidewalk, I directed traffic around my flashing car.
My Mom pulled up, (after a quick, desperate call) rolled down her window and said, “You really are THAT family.”
I wasn’t about to argue with my only ride home. Plus, my Mom is a smart lady.
My hubby rescued my car.
He was happy to report that I had just run out of gas.
Surprisingly, this did not make me feel better.
P.S. I would tell you that the day after I wrote this post, we had to pull the car over (in route to a Valentine’s lunch) and let one of my kids puke in front of Whataburger. But I figured you wouldn’t believe it. Because I sure don’t!