Ten Minute Tale: Post-Op

"Ten Minute Tales" are short, stream of conscientiousness blog entries that will have no content editing because I'm going to just write out everything that pops into my head in ten minutes and literally stop when the timer beeps.

If you read my last post, my daughter had surgery a few days ago. We're on post-op day four:









And go.

This was yesterday:
Really?Who gives a kid both marbles and the teeniest tiniest water balloons? I have picked up marbles for three days straight and now I've finally hidden them. I blew my stack about them so often that now if I see one and my kid sees me see it, his eyes widen and he says "I'll get it" and he hands it right over. That's how I get my kids to do things. I put the fear of God in them. It's a great strategy, but I hate using it. But the water balloons? I tried to be nice and let my four year old play with them a little, meaning I had to attach them to the hose, then twist the hose on, then tie the damn thing off, then tell him to pick up all the pieces so the neighbor's cat wouldn't die; four of them broke and when I finally tied one off, it exploded all over me. My sister had told me to just throw the damn things out, and I should have, right away. I always have to learn the hard way. (Please note my effort to save the neighbor's cat, despite the fact that I think "someone else's cat" is the second best kind of cat, right behind a stuffed cat, and when I say stuffed cat, I know I really mean dead cat, but stuffed cat is nicer.  And no, the real cat was no where in sight, and yes, I did throw the STUPID water balloons away.)

And that's when I came back into the house soaking wet. I had to help my post-op daughter into the shower so she could go to her first physical therapy appointment. It took us three hours to get her ready and transported to the office. My patience is stretching very, very thin.

And today:
I am caring full time for my daughter. She can barely get out of bed. She deserves help and I am happy to help her, but it's very hard to do this with three other kids who all have their own stuff to do, and who all suddenly need ice packs and tylenol. And my four year old has school today. And it's "Dad Night" at pre-school tonight, and we have to bring ice and $6. I never have cash. There's no way my daughter can go to school tomorrow. Maybe she needs a wheelchair. Call around. And my son has a camping trip to go on this weekend, and my husband said he would go on it with him. Great, but really? The thought of doing all this post-op stuff alone makes me st st st st stutter.
And my husband's birthday is tomorrow, and the marble/balloon relative wants to know what our plans are?
WHAT MY PLANS ARE?????? They are to freaking not explode.

 I'm an Avenger. I'm the Hulk. MOMMY SMAAASH!!!

times up.
I'm okay. We're ok. The learning curve is a jerk though.