Just Breathe (If You Can)

I have decided I need to start wearing one of those electronic 911 alerting medical bracelets like my grandma does.  This would not be necessary if I had a husband that offered some form of assistance when I am clearly choking on a lentil.  Yep, you read that right.  I almost D-I-E-D and Mike literally sat there watching me cough, tears streaming down my face, gasping for my final breaths.  Finally, I exorcised the little fucker. 

“OHMIGOD MIKE!  ARE YOU SERIOUSLY TRYING TO CASH IN ON ME YOU DOUCHE BAG?!”  He sat there calmly eating his soup, “No, you were doing fine.  I would have stepped in if you were unconscious.”  “That is fucking noble of you.”  My daughter then walked over after a commercial came on during her TV show and started slapping me on the back.  “Ow, stop it!  You know what?  I am going to the mall where I know I am loved.  My favorite sales guy at J. Crew would be totally distraught over my death.”  Mike snorted, “Yeah, because he wouldn’t meet his sales goals every month.”  Whatever.

Next topic, I picked my daughters up from school and they were excitedly rattling off facts about worms.  Apparently some worm expert came to the school and did a presentation.  I listened intently while patting myself on the back for not putting them in private schools because if I was paying for this shit I would have been pissed.  I then took my youngest daughter up to Wal-Mart and bought her a carton of night crawlers to further secure her future successes by honing in on the practical life skill of creating worm habitats. 

A couple days later, my young-but-old-enough-to-know-better daughters and their cousin asked me if they could paint while I was downstairs working out since gravity has waged an all out war on my ass. Yeah sure, have fun.  I was about halfway through my workout when my six year old came running down the stairs, her arms and legs painted black.  “MOM- WE WENT OUTSIDE AND SOME MAN IS WATCHING US IN THE BACKYARD!”  I tore up the stairs only to come to a screeching halt as I hit the patio.  O.M.G.

Um…..no wonder some man was watching my children.  He was probably thinking, “Golly, I wonder if I should stick around to protect them since their parents are going to kill them when they see what they have done.” My daughters had painted the back patio.  Like for real.  There were footprints everywhere, handprints all over the stucco, giant puddles of paint pooling over the cement and dripping off the steps. 

Mike walked in from the garage and we just stood there speechless.  Finally, I murmured, “Darling, perhaps we should stop contributing money to their college funds.  Obviously God has another plan for our "special" children.”  He softly replied, “I feel so guilty, we had their allergies tested; it never even occurred to me to have their IQ’s checked as well.”  I nodded, “I just don’t get it.  I totally doubled up my prenatals when I realized I had been drinking on the nights of their respective conceptions.”   

Pissed, Mike and I started scrubbing the patio.  I was covered in paint, soaking wet, our wide-eyed children were pressed against the window pondering their fate when Mike and I started laughing.  Like uncontrollably.  The paint was not coming off and for some reason we found this to be utterly hilarious. The kids’ faces went from solemn to bewilderment as I flung some paint at Mike and he sprayed me with the hose.  Later that night my daughter asked me why we started laughing.  The only thing I could think of was how I desperately wish that painting the porch would be the biggest mistake my precious children ever made in life. 

Now, I did confiscate their allowances but not because I was really mad.  I needed Starbucks money since Mike gets all pissy when I charge three dollars on the credit card even though it should really be me that is mad because he obviously wanted me to choke on a lentil and die.  But bottom-line, we all fuck up occasionally and forgiveness is truly the most treasured gift I have ever given (Mike- you are welcome) and received.  Mom- It was me that ran over and flattened your mailbox with the car when I was sixteen.  I was also the one that hit the fish tank with a block and broke it when I was four. However, those were not my condoms that you found; my boyfriend and I never used them.  Sorry! Oh and I totally forgive you for all the times you screwed up.  Love you all! Have a beautiful weekend!  XO