I'm Sick Of It...
Miss Ogamy and the Men
I’m a chronic fixer-upper. I’m not just talking home-improvement projects - although I do enjoy those - I’m talking relationships. When I see a man warring with his internal demons, I cast myself in the role of mother and savior and he turns into my sole focus for the next 6 months to 3 years. All of my exs have fallen under one or more of the following headings: Selfish, bitter, co-dependant, promiscuous, sadistic, and/or drug-addicted. My ex-husband, Mr. Perfect, was no different. The upside of the story is that I got a beautiful little boy, Bubba, out of our time together. The downside is that even though I’ve divorced Perfect, I’m still I’m stuck with him for the next 12 years and 9 months. I’m counting down the days....
In my household we have two boys, Bubba and Boo. Bubba is just entering kindergarten and Boo is just entering daycare which means that I have two walking Petri dishes running around my house with grubby hands, runny noses and faces that just beg to be kissed. I can’t remember the last time everyone in our house was healthy at the same time. It must have been before Boo was born…
Yesterday Boo began vomiting for no apparent reason. Between spewing food like the child from the Exorcist, he seems to feel wonderful but I’m concerned nevertheless. This morning at about 4 AM, Bubba crawled into my bed complaining that his tummy hurt. I kissed his forehead to test his temperature and he deposited his dinner on me and my bed sheets. God I love being a mom.
Today my mother and I are administering Motrin and Tylenol, refilling sippy cups of Sprite, singing lullabies and using gallons of hand sanitizer in the futile hope that we won’t get sick ourselves. Tomorrow Bubba was scheduled to return to school and to Perfect’s custody. As a courtesy, I texted Perfect to give him a heads up on the situation. The conversation went something like this:
