I am hiding from my children.
And eating a whole plate full of noodles with parmesan cheese and butter.
So I am hiding from my children while I eat carbs. It’s pretty much a win-win.
It’s been one of those weeks. I had a corneal transplant in my left eye a few months ago, and the other day my son chose that eye to jab with his elbow. Four hours and a trip to the emergency room later, I was told it was just going to hurt for a while but there was no permanent damage.
Relieved that the cornea was still intact, I left the ER and started my journey home in the minivan we bought a month ago. That journey ended with the van in a guardrail and a $5500 repair estimate.
The next morning my husband left me and my sore, aching back for a 24 hour shift at work. In the middle of this and two screaming toddlers, my dishwasher quit working.
Not only did it quit working, the disgusting drain water actually backfilled into my kitchen sinks where it sat, stagnant and smelling, while I had a complete breakdown on the phone to my husband. (I think I actually suggested that he quit his job right then and come home to fix our plumbing. Of course I was calm and mildmannered when I suggested it, not shrieking like a hysterical crazy woman.)
The eye is healing.
The van will get fixed.
The husband talked me through unplugging the sinks, then came home the next morning and drained the dishwasher so it works again.
And then I discovered that I have to be at the firehouse at 5 AM tomorrow, not 9 like I had previously thought. (Before becoming a firefighter-paramedic, I had no real idea that there even WAS a five in the morning)
My children are running around the living room in their diapers, having shed their pajamas, acting like they have been mainlinging hyper bean coffee for the last six hours.
Thus I am sitting here, in my kitchen, eating carbs.
And waiting for Thing 1 and Thing 2 to find me.