Don't you like how I make someone's death all about me? I'm a lovely person, I am.
I had planned to leave Saturday morning, so I spent Friday prepping food for the weekend (cutting up fruit, making a big pot of mac and cheese, etc.). I needed to make sure my family wouldn't starve or die of scurvy while I was away. Don't be too impressed - I told Larry to use my 2 free sub credits at Harris Teeter for Sunday dinner.
Friday night, 11:30 - I was performing my nightly ritual of sitting on the couch, telling myself I should REALLY get to bed, but not until after just one more stupid word game on my IPad. Rachel came downstairs, saying she might throw up. My weekend plans flashed before my eyes. I HAD to get to this memorial service. My friend's mom - someone who had watched me as a baby, someone who had been there for me through both my parents' funerals - was counting on me. I COULD NOT get sick.
|Essential parenting tool|
The next morning, as I was attempting to gather my things and dash out the door (all while holding my breath), Larry said, "She threw up SIX TIMES." I guess he was looking for sympathy, but what he got was, "Well, Brian threw up 17 times and I'll never eat corned beef again. Good luck with the other kids!" And then I left, feeling I should be marking a huge charcoal X on the front door as I let it slam behind me.
Sometimes? You just have to be tough.
[Bucket image: Clipart Panda]