Alright...so I've haven't posted in a few days. I have a life, ya know. Not much of one, granted, but the measly life that I do have gets in the way every once in awhile. Then the writing stuff sort of takes a back seat to the more dramatic things going on at that moment...and yesterday was WAY dramatic.
Contrary to popular belief, I don't like to argue. I really hate confrontation. I'll be the first ostrich with my head in the sand when some conflict arises. Sometimes I never face the issue. In fact, I've been ostriching about some things in my life for roughly ten years...possibly more...I can't think about it. ANYWAY, I don't like to fight with people. For some reason though, when I feel threatened or if someone threatens my children or husband, I go into full on battle mode. Axe-swinging-homicide-causing-mean-raging-nasty-talking, the whole bit.
I think the day started out with something bad, like no coffee or something. I had the left overs of the night before's migraine still hanging around, so I wasn't even firing on all cylinders. I had forgotten to wash pants for Emma, there was no coffee, I was searching for a Turkish Kurus under the sofa (don't ask), there was a two hour delay for school, I was supposed to work at 10:30 and then was cancelled until 2:30. It was just a stupid morning. Finally, Tom and Emma were out the door and I was sitting on the sofa crabbing it up on the internet. The next thing I knew I was being awakened by my phone ringing. It was Emma's teacher. NEVER A GOOD SIGN.
Without going into a tremendous amount of detail...I ended up hanging up on her. This woman has been messing with my child emotionally since the beginning of school. I was DONE with it. And because I was in such a stellar mood...I launched a Jihad against her. I called her boss, I called the school counselor, I called the district office, I called my ex-husband and I called Tom. Ranting the whole time. I'm short. I'm Irish. I'd had no coffee. I'm peri-menopausal. And I had a HEAD-ACHE. Add that to "messing with my kid" and it's a recipe for the opening scene of Saving Private Ryan. I had myself completely wound up and it wasn't going to end until I had SATISFACTION!! JI-HAAAAAAAD!!
I finally calmed down enough to get ready for work. I stopped and got COFFEE at Starbucks and was talking myself into the idea that four hours at work was not going to be a big deal. I went skippity-skipping up to the floor and stopped by my mailbox first. Note. From. My. Boss. JI-HAAAAAAAD!!
Let's just say...it really...ruffled my feathers...because everyone knows you shouldn't blog bad things about work. It's no secret that I ended up in her office yelling at the top of my lungs. I stormed down to the unit with red flames shooting out my ears muttering about things I'd rather be doing, like having my skin removed with a lemon zester. I did calm down enough to take care of my patients with my usual cheery nurse attitude. Okay...I was pretty cheery...except to the surgery patient who accused us of dropping her on the floor in the OR...I told her we stopped doing that because people were complaining. She just stared at me. I gave her 2 mg of morphine and we were back to being best friends.
I got through the rest of the shift with only a minimal amount of bitching under my breath. Everybody got their medication....no one cart wheeled out of bed...I think I got all my charting done...I think...and I got out on time...with the worst migraine of my entire life.
I drove home...in the near dark, wearing sunglasses and weeping. Someone at work had taken my blood pressure and it was at a joyful 175/90. I could feel my heart beating in my teeth. Each. Individual. Tooth.
Finally made it home and laid face down on the bed for awhile and sent Tom to the pharmacy for LORTAB. That was the only thing I could think about...big blinking red letters....LORTAB...must have the LORTAB. I took blood pressure medication, 4 extra strength tylenol, got sick and slunk back to the bed. Thought about going to the emergency room and decided that standing up was a bad idea since the word NAUSEA would start to flash green in my head. It was a very very bad day. Tom arrived home with the LORTAB. I almost took his arm off at the elbow trying to get the bottle from him. I took more than I should and went back to whimpering on the sofa. Did I mention it was a bad day?
This morning was better. Opened one eye...then the other...hey no headache!! I thought about getting the day started. It was still darkish...everyone still sleeping. I poked Tom a couple of times who muttered something about some theatre issue and went back to sleep. When we finally started to wake up, we decided that Emma had had enough. We were going to keep her home until I had this worked out with the school. I later received a call from the principal who was calling from her home where she was recovering from being sick. Apparently the district office had called her after I had called them. Apologies were offered. Strategies discussed. Things were looking up. The day was starting infinitely better.
Emma and I spent the day together and it was a hoot. We shopped, had lunch, I went out to the hospital to deliver some paperwork and stormed around there for awhile and introduced her to my coworkers. We got her hair cut and bought ridiculously priced bakery dog cookies for the herd at home. We ended the day buying silly girl things like purses and sunglasses, bracelets and stuffed poodles, and a couple of cute shirts for her. Armed with a bag of kettle corn from the market, we sat on the sofa and watched a couple cartoons. The neighbor girl came over and asked if Em could play and I sent her on her way. Emma shrieked with happiness and made for the door, but she stopped and came back and threw her arms around my neck and said "YOU are the BEST Mommy EVER!!!" and she skittered out the door.
I don't even remember what happened yesterday.
"YOU are the BEST Mommy EVER!!!" is bad day Magic Eraser.
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