Ever since my kids left me to die in the middle of the dining room floor, I decided there needs to be some changin’ around here. Training, if you will, for the inevitable day I will step on one of their Legos, fall down, and break my damn neck. That day may not be far off–I’m not gettin’ any younger here.
Currently, my kids only seem to notice shit when it happens to them, so why not make them very aware of the world around them? That’s right- I’m finally teaching them to be decent human beings! One would think that would come naturally. My kids ask to open the front door for me and then ask if they can get paid for it. One would be wrong.
I started small- Hey kids, mommy’s neck hurts, can you grab that (insert random object just out of arm’s reach here) for me?” Yes, I speak about my mom-self in the third person. Don’t judge. It’s not like I’ve never asked them before, but I was serious this time, y’all. GET MOMMY’S SHIT! Check, and check. No problem there. Will that save me when I’ve fallen and can’t get up? No. No it won’t. Next level time.
When I woke up on Wednesday morning, I felt like trash. I hate mornings, but not enough to wake up physically ill. Before you go into the whole “Dur duh dur, are you pregnant?” shit I’m sure someone out there is tempted to poop into the comments section- NO. As I stumbled toward my kid’s rooms to wake them up, I found Holden playing in the office… only he wasn’t playing. “Mommy, I don’t feel good at all. I felt like barfing and my stomach has hurt for hours.” YAY STOMACH FLU! I mean, I’ll take that over a uterine-parasite, but it’s still not exactly a welcome visitor in my house.
Parker was carted off to school by the husband unit, and Holden and I were left on the couch–me, in and out of consciousness. Usually naps have me waking up like Nosferatu and questioning what year it is, but the one I took that morning actually made me feel quite human. Human enough that I could actually drag my ass off the couch by about 3pm to get some shit done around the house. I didn’t feel awesome, but spending an entire day couch surfing isn’t as awesome to me as it was when I was little, so I had to get up.
The genius in me decided it would be best if I sweat this shit out. YAS! WEIGHT LIFTING WHEN MY STOMACH FEELS LIKE SHIT! BEST IDEA EVER!
No. No it wasn’t.
The genius in me also put my at-home “gym” of sorts in the same room as what has become known as “The Lego Room”. It’s the Temple of Doom in there, people. It didn’t cause me any problems that day, but it did mean Holden was in there playing while I was failing at lifting weights like a noodle-armed moron.
For reasons unknown to me, instead of the workout sending me into a barf-fit, my throat began itching, and itching soon turned to me gagging. TEST TIME, YA LITTLE SHIT! (Note: I didn’t fake any of this, but I may have exaggerated slightly for effect)
Cough, cough, hack hack hack. He doesn’t even look up
Cough hack hack gag. Glances at me with a stink eye, as I DARED to interrupt his precious Lego building time.
Cough, hack, gag, heave. The fuck are you on, woman?
Grabs water, hack, heave, gasping for air. Look of mild concern. Or gas. Probably gas.
Tries to sip water, chokes, hacks, heaves, says I can’t breathe! “uhhh, Mommy?” Did he actually notice that I’m dying??
Gasping for air, failing at drinking, grabbing throat, begging for help Stands up, announces he’s going to get me water. HOUSTON! WE HAVE HUMANITY!
With creepy old man voice tells him that I already HAVE water, chokes some more Sits back down like a shit on a stick.
Not exactly the results I was hoping for, but we’ll get there one day. Maybe. Hopefully before the zombie apocalypse occurs, because judging by the above he will NOT be saving my ass… but at least he’ll bring me a glass of water before I die.
Frying pans. Who knew, right? pic.twitter.com/usSQcFGpmI
Just did this yesterday and it was everything 9 year old me could have dreamed of pic.twitter.com/imYQlUmSVn
LIVE on Twitch tonight -- come say hi! twitch.tv/holdinholden
As I embark on an 11 day trip with my kids, this is especially fitting. VACATIONS WITH KIDS ARE MANUAL LABOR! holdinholden.com/2016/03/vaca…
Are you, though?? 😂😂 pic.twitter.com/Rm5L9PBuiL
When I file for divorce and people ask why I'm gonna say "I told him I felt bloated & wanted donuts and he replied 'that's not gonna help'"
Me usually: Lunch time, kids! So much to choose from! Me before a trip: You're gettin' a bread sandwich because I'm not going shopping again
How to Convince Your Fam to Watch ANYTHING you want on Netflix! goo.gl/fb/H6iZrR
We're just... uh.... wrestling.... 😂😂😂 pic.twitter.com/dpAIyM88c8