My wish, today, was that my six year old had chicken pox.
Last night he was having a bath when I noticed a spot on his thigh that very well looked as though it could be the beginning of chicken pox. I was thrilled. Odd reaction you say? Well, I took the day off work yesterday because my daycare was closed. Nothing thrilled me more than the prospect of potentially staying home for the rest of the week if he indeed did have chicken pox and his little brother caught them too.
So this morning I dragged my butt out of bed at 7 a.m. and got into the shower. I feel it's prudent to point out that I have been off for the last four days and not once in those four days did either of my two youngest children stay in bed until 7 a.m. A-holes. Anyway, I got up, showered, got dressed and began the humanizing process (read: hair & make-up). It was getting later and later and my son (well both of them actually) was still asleep. Maybe this is a good sign, I thought. Maybe he's not feeling well, hence the sleeping in. So I dawdled. Did my hair first because it doesn't hurt to have my hair done but I really really didn't want to put make-up on unless I was going to work. However, still he slept...so finally I caved and put make-up on and thought, oh well, I'll be pretty at home for once.
Then, he awoke. I'm telling you I checked every square inch of that little boy's body. Nary a pox to be found. Reeling from disappointment I covered him back up and went and broke the bad news to my husband. He kindly offered to get out a red marker but I declined. I did happen to have one small shred of dignity left that stopped me from becoming a full out Munchausen Mama.
Off I went to work. Defeated and in no way prepared for the shitstorm that was about to hit me once I got there. Nor was I prepared for my two year old to actually shit himself in the McDonald's Play Land tonight.
Well, there you have it, another day, another healthy child, another pair of training pants rinsed out in the toilet....life is good?