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Married to GI Joe, and the Mother to GI Joe Jr (whom is currently addicted to the Wonderful World of Superheroes), I'm a WV Hillbilly plunked down in a subdivision. I have a backyard garden, crazy neighbors, and a goofy dog that we love on Tuesdays. We love to travel and explore new things, so feel free to browse our life. Sometimes it is exciting, most of the time it is just life. But we are having a good time at it.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Bad mom

I've got bronchitis.

I've had freaking bronchitis for eighteen months, three days, nine hours and sixteen minutes.

Well....not really, but it sure as hell feels like it.

I'm tired of coughing, but at least I don't feel like I have been hit by a truck anymore.

I sound more emphysema-ish right now, and not like my lung is going to hurl itself out on the table.

Last week, I could barely hold my head up in class...but I was there.  Taking notes, taking tests...keeping up with the ballgame.

I can't say that many of my classmates have my drive. 

I'd kick my own tail if I was as lame as some of them are.  Not all of them...but there are a few that if I go to a doctor's office and they are there to attend me...I'll be asking for someone else.

One student came in with the excuse that the orange drink from the glucose test at her OB made her ill.  But then in the next sentence she was talking about going to the pumpkin patch and then putting $900 (yes, $900) worth of toys for her daughter on layaway at Wal Mart. 

If your happy ass can withstand the pumpkin patch AND WalMart in one day...I think you could make it to class.

Another...well, she had forgotten that she had class on Monday.  How the eff do you FORGET you have class.  We have it EVERY stinking Monday.

And no...you can't borrow my notes.  They are written in shorthand (they really are for this express purpose...learned that valuable lesson in college when an entire notebook of notes failed to reappear).  People won't bother to use your notes once they realize they can't read the language.

I'm evil.

Plus I coughed on them.

But back to my bronchitis...

I made it through class and then headed the hell home...where I laid down on the couch for four blessed hours and died a coughing hacking phlegmy death...

Then I got back up, got in the car, and went to pick up Kiddo.

This went on all week.

By Friday, I was feeling semi-human, so I dropped him at preschool...did a quick run to the grocery store, then home...to die on the couch for a few hours.  I did vacuum the house and fold some laundry, but otherwise, my happy coughing ass was on the couch again.

Even though I was stupid sick with the plague of plagues, I felt guilty for leaving him in the care of his preschool and not picking him up early nor keeping him home with me.

One...I needed to rest.  You can't rest with a four year old.  It is in their DNA to aggravate the holy sin out of you whether you feel well or not.  They know.  They can smell it.

Two...I didn't want him to catch it.  I was already taking every precaution known to man to keep him well...and keeping him as far away from me for as long as possible...in my mind...was shielding him.

Three...I wanted to die...for a few hours.  Really...am I all that bad?

Nope...I am not. 

Why?  Because even my mom...who NEVER left me with anyone...told me to do it.

If my mom thinks it is ok...then it is sealed with approval.

This is the woman that hated the fact that I had to drive with him in the back seat for an hour commute each day because he might get upset.

I'm ok.

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