This past week has been crazy for many reasons. Monday started out good but ended with some very unexpected twists. First the weekend snow, we got 10 inches, kinda had us locked inside. The garage doors were frozen shut and we could not open them. Luckily my hubby's car was outside and we were able to go places we needed to go. Even with all the snow, the kids did not get a snow day. That was OK with me. Hubby worked from home and I was thrilled to have some alone time with him even if he was working.
We picked up our son after school and remembered that he had a play date with two of his friends. We changed and took them to the rec center to play. Since there were three boys to watch my hubby and I decided to tag team the exercising. I let him go first. As I sat in the play room watching the boys play, the youngest of our team decided that he was not interested in playtime. So he kept me company watching Micky on my phone. All seemed to be going well until loud crying filled the room. Two boys quickly ran to their mothers, who were sitting on the bench next to me, complaining that two other boys were being overly rough with them. They quickly pointed out my son and his friend. I got up and talked to the two boys, asking that they play nicer.
All seemed to back on track until the same scenario happened again. I pulled my son and his friend aside for a second time and talked to them, this time informing them of their consequences (of leaving early) should they not behave. My son quickly defended himself and his friend by telling me his side of the story, that these two boys were the ones playing rough and showed me his pulled on t-shirt as proof. After all was said and done the boys were back at play.
This is where the sicko part comes in...
As the kids went back to play, I stood up to watch them more closely and to ensure the order of nice play was being followed. Then I heard the two women, the mothers of the boys that were complaining, talking. Now we've all talked to our friends loudly about something we really want someone else to overhear so that they know where we stand but we don't have to tell it to their face. This was the case with, oh let's name them Bimbo 1 and Bimbo 2. As I write this I can only hope that these two women read this blog. The Bimbo sisters starting talking about the "age requirements" for the kids area and saying that the older kids were just too rough to be in the play place. This infuriated me. Here I have pulled the boys aside and talked them, twice, and even stood up and walked around to ensure that all was well and these Bimbos still weren't satisfied. SCREW YOU! Most of the parents there never get off their ass even when their kids cry (for whatever reason). Oh and their kids were the exact same size as the my son and his friend. Age difference or not they were on the same size level. Also the play was not that rough to where they needed to say all that crap if it was I would have taken the boys home. I mean are they raising boys or pussies?! I bet their father's would be so proud to know that their mother's are turning their sons into daughters.
Yes I was angry. I stood there staring at them until they felt uncomfortable enough to leave. If they thought that I was going to cower away with my tail between my legs they were very wrong. Eventually they left...good riddance to bad rubbish. The only bad part is that we had to leave shortly after too. As we were getting ready to leave, the youngest started to cry telling me that he had a tummy ache. As we searched for his shoes, I tried to soothe him and ensure him that we were on the way home to his mommy. When suddenly in one quick movement he turned his head away from me and in a scene right out of The Exorcist projected vomit everywhere. My husband and his brother jumped back away from him and I expeditiously scooped him up and took him out of the room. As we left, the acidic smell from the vomit made it's way to my nose. Any thought of what to have for dinner left my head. We made our way to the restroom as fast as possible but it was not fast enough to stop the trail of vomit in the hallway. This poor child was spewing puke everywhere. It wasn't until his third toilet bowel full of chunky vomit that I realized that I was covered in it too. From the waist down to my shoes I was splattered with it. I tried not to think about it and focused on the boy. Poor thing, he looked weak and pale. I cleaned him up as best as possible and we made our way to the car. On the way home we opened some windows to medicate the smell that still lingered on our soiled clothes. By the time we got him home his colored had returned and I was able to explain what happened to his grandfather.
Later that night, around 9pm, I started feeling...sick.
Today, I found out that I have sinusitis and bronchitis. Great. I don't blame anyone for me getting sick except perhaps for Bimbo 1 and Bimbo 2 for pissing me off. I have been battling this since Monday and am looking forward to the weekend hoping that this crud will have run it's course by then. I will keep my wonderful five readers posted.
Until next time...
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