Head Shavin’ Kind of Crazy

2 Apr

I’ve made the executive decision, as my own personal executive mind you, that if I make it through the next few months without going Britney Spears style head shavin’ crazy from stress or something that screams lunatic in some equal manner, I will reward myself with something strange I have always wanted like a pink El Camino or a crushed ice machine. (Finely crushed ice and not that crap refrigerators spit out and try to pass off as crushed. Ugh.)
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I have my second of two 225 question tests of the week to take tomorrow. Just as I was settling into bed and thinking about how badly I needed a good night’s sleep after listening to 8.5 straight hours of lectures with minimum break time, Allie’s day of coughing turned into a night of vomiting. I began cleaning puke and consoling her while also thinking about how asking how a week could get more frustrating only seems to result in that actually happening. So perhaps I should stop. I usually know better than to question the inevitable but sometimes the optimist in me plays hooky.

I’m sure everything will end up being fine. But there is nothing like an extraordinary amount of self-imposed pressure to induce a head spinning sort of dizzy and frustration.

Also, there exists the guilt of focusing and worrying about your test as your child has the pukes and feels like yesterday’s garbage while vomiting up the evening’s dinner. I guess my point, really, is that part of me sort of wishes I was half of a Siamese twin so that I had an extra set of arms and even another brain to use. There just aren’t enough arms to console a sick baby.

It’s times like these that I wish my Mom lived closer than Florida so that I had some back up arms or at least someone to make fun of me for having to scrub up vomit. Because if you are palm deep in puke, you need someone to make you laugh.

It could be worse: I could still be wearing weird outfits like this throwback from cheerleading camp11 years ago.

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