Tuesday, August 27, 2013
1. What am I even wearing? Do I have a bra on? Am I covered in breast milk or poop?
2. Are they asking me those questions because they think I knocked him out? I may be a pain ever so often, but there isn't a lot of Mike Tyson in this soul...
3. What's that dude reaching for his phone for? He's calling DFCS, isn't he? I knew it - this place is a disaster. Yesterday's dishes, weeks of unfolded laundry, toys galore...he totally is. Where could I hide the children...
4. Man, I hope that cute fireman doesn't trip on the army men at the top of the stairs.
5. How the hell do the kids sleep through 17 large, medically trained professionals tromping through the house but the cat cries from the basement and suddenly they are awake?
6. What? They want to lay him on the bed now?! But those are new, white sheets...
7. Who can watch the children, who can watch the children, who can watch the children?
8. So can I start Cloroxing now? It looks like you guys got this for a bit...I'm not letting that damn virus take us all down.
9. Did that guy really just ask me to put my dog away? Dude - she's a golden retriever. Are you fearful she'll lick your face off?
10. Did I just hear the MedAct chic say she had this virus YESTERDAY?! Get out, lady, get out! We don't need those germs here!
Before you judge, I believe these thoughts were just coping mechanisms for my brain to begin wrapping itself around that my husband was hurt, suffering and had a close call. That I don't know what I'd do without him. That I love him to pieces. And that he's the strongest, bravest guy I know.
I love you honey and am so glad you're healing...so don't forget it when DCFS comes to take me away, ok?
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