TAPPED OUT … DONE … COOKED

I’m done parenting today

Yup, I declared this about four hours ago. I’m just done.

It started with faux pinkeye and a trip to the doctor who insists on calling my kid “Squidward” from “SpongeBob Square Pants.” He has a great bedside manner, but I kinda don’t believe his diagnosis. I get that he has a medical degree (from The University Under the Sea apparently) and mine is in journalism, but come on, the eyes were crusty and pink.

In my book, CRUSTY SHIT + PINK EYES = PINKEYE.

“Well, what if by Friday it’s WORSE?” I asked him in my TIGER MOM tone.

“Well, it will get worse before it gets better. The cold is in his eyes,” Dr. SquirdWard told me.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Lord knows this is gonna turn into pinkeye by Saturday. And, if I am super lucky, which I generally am, it will infect his twin sister around 9 a.m., which is the exact time I am leaving with all the kids to travel overnight to a soccer tournament. SCORE!

Anyways, Dr. Squidward told me to send Non-Pinkeye Kid back to school.  So, I did …

At 3 p.m. my cell phone rings. I hate answering my cell phone during that hour … but it’s Non-Pinkeye’s teacher. Turns out, his ear was killing him. He was just in to see Dr. Squidward, who declared he could “see through his ears all the way to Lake Erie.”

“Maybe the doctor put the tool in too far?” I said.

“OK, so I will just put him on the bus and you will give him mom love when he gets home …” the kind teacher asked me.

“OK!” I replied.

Fifty-minutes later, Non-Pinkeye Kid walks off the bus, crying.

Parent fail.

Yet amazingly, I gave him some Tylenol, promised him a trip to the Dollar Store and his ear was fine.

It’s a MIRACLE.

So, we drove the hormonal pre-teen to basketball practice (which by the way, I was super stressed about him making the damn team, I never, ever, ever took into consideration I would become his bitch … driving him to and from practice).

After the store, where I just bought more medicine, we drove home and tackled DoomsDay Hour with gusto. (And, just to let you readers know, I drove through my town at least 10 times today …)

The point of this blog is, today, I was done. I was done being a parent.

However, the thing is, right now, like RIGHT NOW, my twins are sitting two feet away from me spelling words from Junie B. Jones books and I am supposed to guess what they are reciting back to me.

Literally.

I am so tapped out. I can’t even form another single thought in my head, let alone try to read a Junie B. Jones book.

All I want to do is sit on my ass and watch “The Alaskan Bush People.” That’s all. That’s all I want do.

 

About the author:

Melissa Linebrink is a reporter/bi-monthly columnist for “The Mommy Wars” printed in The Chronicle-Telegram. She has been featured as a blogger on the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop site, www.humorwriters.org and “Great Moments in Parenting.” She also writes, edits and manages her blog, https://parenthoodthenewcrazytrain.com/. She can be reached at mlinebrink@yahoo.com.

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Pink eye sucks

“Hello Stan …” I yelled from the kitchen, down the hall to my son going to the bathroom. “How did you sleep?”

“Well, I think I have some pink eye …” he said from the crapper.

AWESOME.

That is my new phrase – “Everything is AWESOME,” followed by, “Fuck me.”

I get that of all the shit the kids can bring home from school, pink eye is the “best of the bunch” – at least it’s not lice, the flu or some other funky communicable disease. (However, my 40-year-old HUSBAND “caught” pink eye LAST WEEK, so this HAS to be his fault, right?)

But pink eye is just enough of a disease to warrant staying home from school.

He’s watching TV now, or what he can see through his crusted-over eyes … and I am here being a good mom, blogging about his crusty eyes.

We are both winners.

Back when I was younger, my parents had to deal with chicken pox. I was a good girl though … I didn’t get that childhood illness till I was 15. BOOM … I saved them a lot of stress – no one had to stay home with me. They just gave me a tub of ice cream and left me at home with the TV and my homework.

Wait, there’s a good story behind the chicken pox …

After I reached third grade and didn’t get them, my parents would purposely send me over to homes where kids actually had chicken pox in the hope I would get them. It never happened until my younger brother got them.

The first pox I noticed was on my stomach … oh, wait, I wasn’t even in the same state at the time as my parents. No, this is my “That one time, AT BAND …” story. I was with the band, in Florida … at Disney – the most MAGICAL PLACE ON EARTH (my ass) …

The 24-hour BUS ride BACK to Ohio was the worst time of my life.

They quarantined me on the bus where everyone had already had the virus. There I sat, right by the bus driver … and clipped my nails off (snip, snip, snip) and I rubbed calamine lotion all over my body.

I was every 15-year-old boys’ DREAMGIRL.

And then I missed a week of school … only to go back with scabbed-over pox all over my face. I was working that shit. The dates just rolled in after that, I couldn’t even keep up!

Anyways, back to my kid … since he’s a twin, there’s a 99 percent chance that when his sister wakes up tomorrow morning, she too will have “some pink eye.” I wonder if I could bribe the pediatrician into giving me two scripts for the same meds … he has to see this coming …

About the author:

Melissa Linebrink is a reporter/bi-monthly columnist for “The Mommy Wars” printed in The Chronicle-Telegram. She has been featured as a blogger on the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop site, www.humorwriters.org. She also writes, edits and manages her blog, https://parenthoodthenewcrazytrain.com/. She can be reached at mlinebrink@yahoo.com.