Monday, September 26, 2011
Word of the day: accuracy
Barring extreme circumstances and so long as there aren't too many witnesses present, it's okay with me if I end up being wrong about something.
However, I don't really think you need to check with my husband to see if I'm telling the truth here. No, really. Don't.
Seriously though, I'm not one of those people who NEEDS to be right, but if I am right, I will generally go completely and ridiculously out of my way to prove it. Other times, like this morning, I am proven right even though I don't particularly want that to be the case.
For the first time ever, all four of my kids spent Saturday night with their Grandmama and their Granny, who in layman's terms are my husband's mother and grandmother. Granny will be 90 in 2 days and she has come to the point in her life where she pretty much does what she wants, and one thing she DOESN'T want to do is deny her precious great-grandbabies anything.
Which is the point when, unfortunately, I begin to be proven right.
Our kids don't spend the night away often. In fact, the two youngest have never spent the night away from us, and the older two have spent the night away less than ten times in their lives. So in preparation of this night away from home, we laid down some basic ground rules. We told our kids, don't overeat. Bathe. Brush your teeth. But most of all, don't overeat, because you'll make yourself sick. Even when we're there with them, our kids have been known to eat themselves straight into a wicked tummy ache on more than one occasion, always during our visits to Granny's house.
Early this Monday morning, hours after the kids were all safely tucked back into their beds at home, my second oldest boy got his payback for ignoring our "don't overeat" warning. I had a terribly restless night thanks to a foolish decision to drink coffee with my husband at dinner time (THANKS A LOT, CAFFEINE) and I finally fell asleep a little after two in the morning, dismayed at the knowledge that my alarm for work was set to go off at 4:57 a.m. However, an hour before I was due to get up I was awoken by a different sort of alarm - the jarring, unsettling sound of my child retching violently into what I fervently hoped was the toilet (it was...mostly). I will spare you the details - mainly because I can't bear to relive them a second time - but suffice it to say, I ended up with involuntary tears pouring down my face and a baby wipe stuffed up each of my nostrils in a surprisingly viable attempt to stymie the smell as I cleaned up the stuff that didn't make it into the appropriate vessel.
So, I was right. Yay. Was it worth looking like a sobbing walrus and getting puke between my toes at four in the morning? Not hardly. This is one case where I would have been totally, completely fine with being wrong.
(...but don't tell my husband that.)
Posted by Carri at 7:52 PM