Erin Go Blah

CAUTION: Gross story follows. Skip to paragraph 3 if you don't want to know.


Tuesday night seemed normal. I decided to go to bed around 11pm. I came in the bathroom to find that Demand had eaten an entire tube of her toothpaste and tried to eat (thankfully) empty bottles of medicine. This happened while we thought she was asleep.

I had a hard time falling asleep (Mr. Sloth fell asleep right away). Soon I started to feel nauseous. I couldn't get comfortable and I still couldn't fall asleep. Finally around 1am I decided taking a bath might help. It did, in fact I started to doze off (which Mr. Sloth doesn't like) so I went back to bed grabbing the bathroom garbage can on my way just in case as I still felt nauseous. I couldn't have been in bed two minutes before I went all "Exorcist". I mean I just shot out of bed. Thankfully I grabbed the garbage can in time and then dashed for the bathroom to finish the unfortunate event. Poor Mr. Sloth had to be woken up with that horrid sound. However, he was somewhat relieved to find it was me and not Demand who he thought would be paying for the toothpaste she had eaten earlier. He was thrilled to find out I had not gotten anything on our bed but we were both still baffled as to why this was occurred. The first thing both of us thought was Mr. Sloth can't stay home. There's no way with a possible pay check on the line he could take a day off.

Thankfully it was just a fluke and the only other symptom I had was a horrid headache caused by the violent episode. I still had the headache when I woke up and Mr. Sloth let me sleep until 8am which was great except when Demand burst in and declared "Happy St. Patrick's Day". Eventually the headache went away and I was able to function fully for the most of the day. Shortly after lunch my headache started to come back with a vengeance. Thankfully it was nap time. Happy was in his crib and Demand in I in my bed. When Happy woke up I realized I had a full blown migraine. Not cool. I plopped Happy in his exersaucer, threw some snacks at him and turned on PBS. I then made a desperate call to Mr. Sloth to do a Motrin run for me. As I lay on the couch waiting for him for the second time in a week I came to the conclusion that this migraine was most definitely fatal. "There's no way I can recover from pain like this", I thought. I was sure that if the kids fussed for any reason my head would most definitely explode. Mr. Sloth was again my hero and arrived with medicine and offered a quick massage before heading back to work. We both decided the horrid show on PBS could be making the pain worse so we put on a DVD for Happy instead. (Two grown men should not be that eager to talk to a lemur puppet)

Within a half an hour my migraine was gone. I felt great. In fact I was able to make cupcakes for CCD and put together a meal for the children before heading out to CCD.

At some point in the day we found out Mr. Sloth's dad was in the hospital. That together with the fact that we are praying to get paid soon, and my knowledge that a friend was in labor at the time gave me plenty of options for things to offer suffering up for. In fact I was offering up my nauseousness for my friend around the time she was pushing. Nothing is in vain I guess.

After CCD we came home and put the kids to bed. Note that I didn't say to sleep. Happy was a rock star actually. He read books and then eventually laid down and put himself to sleep. Demand on the other hand. SANCTIFIER! That girl is going to get it soon. After eating her toothpaste the day before she was punished by not getting sweets on St. Patrick's day which also meant she had to help make cupcakes without getting one taste. You would think this would effect future decisions but no. What happened next we knew would happen some day. It does in every family. We thought she was asleep but it turns out she was in the bathroom playing with my make up and CUTTING HER HAIR. I had already sent her back to bed when I found the hair on the bathroom floor. It didn't seem like much but I couldn't find my scissors which scared me. Well I found them this morning along with the rest of her lopped off hair in the bedroom. At seven in the morning I lectured her about not using my scissors as she repeatedly asked if I liked her hair. And then she had the gall to say, "Can I have a cupcake?" ARRRGH!

So that was our St. Patrick's Day but I guess vomiting, headaches, and unplanned haircuts aren't too unusual for this special day.