I need Lysol to create a bomb for my house. Maybe I could duct tape the sprayer down and run out the front door. The mushroom clouds of disinfectant might kill whatever killer germs are partying in our home. Cause It's starting to feel like everyone has been sick more often than not this past month. Daughter just finished a course of antibiotics and promptly got a super high, dunk her in the bathtub at 3am fever. And son woke up with the same thing this morning. Poor punk'ins.
Quite honestly, the sheer need of this household is overwhelming me. For the first time in my life I can say that my lap is not big enough. The largess that is me, is overwhelmed with the bodies of 2 sick, squirmy kids that don't want to be put down but don't want to be held either. And I want my privates back. Every two minutes someone is nuzzling into my boob, or jamming a toe into my crotch. I haven't had sex in so long because I can't bear to be touched by the time husband gets home. And I'm pretty sure he's turned off by my less than impressive hygiene habits. Being a human snot rag doesn't really get anyone horny.
And for someone prone to the blues, holing up at home with two crying kids tends to bring out the worst of theories. Right now I'm convinced that I'm losing the close friendship I have with Carol. When Carol and I both had young squirmy ones we would get together several times a week. The plan being if we were going to be slowly driven insane, we might as well be in good company as it happened.
Since her daughter has gone into kindergarten her life has settled down. Her youngest naps while the oldest is away at school so she has an entire afternoon to regain her sanity. I'm finding myself evily upset by this. I think I might want her crazy again. Cause when she was loopy too we commiserated about our days. We used to mutually bitch about having to chisel snot off the minivan seats, then make each other laugh and get off the phone feeling like we weren't a couple of Cruella's - just maxed out moms.
Now when I call and complain that son won't stop whining she lovingly gives a sympathetic "ooooh, that sucks." and helpful advice. But I'm waiting for the part where she adds, "Oh My Gosh, I know! My daughter is driving me crazy!" and it doesn't come. Truly, I don't want her on the edge again. But I do wish she could remember what it was like. Maybe an, "Oh Christ I'm glad I'm not you anymore." Cause I'm feeling like selective memory is overtaking our relationship. I'm starting to become the whiny friend, as she forgets what her life was like with a couple of wee ones at home. I know this selective memory disease will overtake us all at some point. Otherwise, how could we be proper mother in laws talking about how "our" children never (insert what your kids did all the time here).
No doubt this entire scenario with Carol exists in my head and I just need to take a vacation, go drinking with the girls and up my dosage. Maybe buy a UV lamp to sit under while the kids nap and winter passes. Maybe I AM the whiny friend. Good Lord. I'm going to take a shot of Nyquil and watch Toy Story with the kids again.