My daughter is lucky to be alive.
After all, what other mother do you know who, after spending all morning in bed with a throbbing headache, would allow her to continue on after everything she's accomplished this morning?
I know, I know, you're picturing her face, and thinking "What could that angel possibly do wrong?"(Disclaimer: She dresses herself...)
10 am: Justin stomps upstairs and flings the Xbox remote control onto the bed beside me and my pile of afghans.
"Just look what she did! SHE BIT THE CONTROLLER!"
Yep. Sure enough, there was a bit of the toggle-thingy missing in the shape of her 4-year-old teeth. Corinne was summoned, confessed, and was sent to her room. I reminded everyone that my head HURT and to please, please, please fend for yourself downstairs and eat SOMEthing that isn't messy or too sugary while I waited for my Dayquil* to have some effect.
12:30ish: Evan's friend comes over and I say he can come in as long as they continue to not mess with me upstairs. My headache has NOT abated, and I am worried that I am starting to get really sick as I'm broiling in my bedroom. I take some more DayQuil and try to watch something quiet on tv in my bedroom when I hear Evan's buddy say,
"Why is there marker all over the piano?"
I hazily flew down the stairs to confirm the disaster and found green marker stripes on every single white key of my great-aunt's piano. Holding my head (so that I didn't swat her bottom) I shrieked at her to "GO TO HER ROOM again!!" She sobbed and wailed her apologies. Whatever. I have only a few nice things in my home!! NOT the piano!!
(Thankfully, it was one of the washable markers, and not the Sharpies. The piano keys were easily cleaned and I made sure to bring a steaming cup of coffee upstairs to my room with me, hoping that the caffeine would ease the pain.)
2:00: Patrick finally arrives home with liquid Tylenol and I trudge downstairs, slam the dosage and take in the carnage of the house. Ugh. Dishes and spilled pink milk and muddy footprints and markers on the table... Evan and Corinne headed out into the cold rain to play and I put on a show of cleaning the kitchen (i.e. I loaded the dishwasher). By this time, I was really getting worried about how hot I was getting. Sick just in time for Thanksgiving! Fabulous. I decided to just take it easy and sit down at the table with a glass of water. As I passed the furnace vent, I got blasted with HOT air...
Hmmmm... I've been a mother for 10 years. I know by now to investigate a mystery a little further....
"WHO turned the furnace up to 75 degrees?!? Corinne??!?? Did you push the buttons by the computer???"**
God help me. GOD HELP ME. She is a female Dennis the Menace. She is precious and joyful and curious and uninhibited and she is going to be the death of me.
*All I have in the house cuz I can't swallow pills.
**I AM grateful that I am not as sick as I thought, though.***
*** Or going through "the change" at an early age.
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