listen,
i get it.
you have what feels like 432 kids.
it's 2:42 am.
and you are quietly scrubbing throw up out of the carpet.
you are maniacally
praying
over
and
over
and over
again
"please don't let one of the sleeping kids wake.
please don't let one of the sleeping kids wake.
please don't let one of the sleeping kids wake"
and if one does wake up,
please don't let them be projectile vomiting."
you are trying your best to silence those prayers thinking,
"what do i have to do to get the flu?"
why can't i call in?
what do i need to do to have a reason to stay in bed?
what do i need to do to have a reason to stay in bed?
and not cook breakfast.
or answer questions every 42 seconds.
and not eat at all and lose six pounds in one day.
since when is the flu so horrible?
i'll tell you when.
when you break your ankle.
i left the gym mid june,
stella was on my hip
colton was holding my hand,
and chloe was flitting about the parking lot like she owned the place.
i think.
who really knew where chloe was.
we were so close to my car.
i took a step forward
and i realized i had no where to go because i was holding stella,
and colton was standing where my foot needed to go.
i went forward knowing it wasn't going to be pretty.
however, i would like to take this time,
knowing that my kids will read this,
to state,
i one hundred percent took one for the team.
for you guys.
i didn't want to drop stella,
i didn't want to fall on colton,
and who knows where chloe was.
i went down and immediately felt the pain.
but i gave myself a pep talk, like i do every day of my life.
usually it has something to do with making it to nap time.
sometimes i am cheering myself down the sidelines to actually get breakfast on the table.
this day it was:
you can do this.
after all you have been through with these crazy children,
you can do this.
pick up your leg, hop in the car, and drive home.
but i soon realized i would not be able to do that.
i could not move my leg.
for real.
colton was crying from {inevitably} being pinned between the car and me,
stella was crying from {inevitably} being dropped.
and who knows where chloe was.
it was chaos.
per usual.
i screamed repeatedly for my sweet friend, krista, who was parked what felt like a mile from me.
she eventually came running and saved the day.
i used her phone and called my mom begging for her to be at my house when i got home.
she was.
and as she was hugging me,
unloading my kids,
while simultaneously applying ice to my ankle and asking me what i wanted for dinner at 12:49 pm,
it started to click.....
the flu?
have i really secretly been begging for the flu?
we iced it.
my dad took me to the dr.
we iced it.
we went to get my boot.
we iced it.
i took ibuprofen,
we iced it.
and when i got home, my mom sent me to bed????
is this real life?
my bed?
i haven't been sent to my bed since i pushed a baby out of my body?!
and that was almost two years ago.
so when my mom entered my room with a pain pill,
a chilled glass of pinot grigio,
and parmesan and leek risotto?
it finally hit me......
who the hell wishes for the flu when all you need to do is break your ankle?
as i sipped my wine,
spooning delicious,
cheesy,
leeky
risotto in my mouth.
it was ofish.
i was not breaking up any fights.
i was not dishing out in the green bowl when "obviously" i was "supposed" to be dishing out in the pink bowl.
i wasn't trying to come up with a magical story about the green bowl because both girls want the only pink bowl.
i wasn't spooning their cold, regurgitated leftovers hurriedly into my mouth with a toddler spork.
i wasn't cleaning the kitchen, while at the same time trying to get them in the bath.
and we all know,
that bath puts me
one
step
closer
to
bedtime.
i was eating hot food and drinking cold wine in my bed.
and it was glorious.
but
as i rested my elevated ankle,
in all of my full reality tv glory,
i started to feel bad.
because i know you all have wished for the flu, too.
or some other virus to put you out for a day or four.
so on my third uninterrupted episode of guiliana and bill, and second glass of wine, i decided i owed you all the truth.
channel your inner nancy kerrigan and hire a tonya.
you're welcome.
