Sick Kid, Part II

So now the Smaller One is sick, with the same stupid keep-me-up-all-night cough that the Slightly Larger One had a couple weeks ago. Unfortunately, she is not a good patient at ALL. Pillows have to be arranged perfectly, juice MUST be in specific cups, certain episodes of Spongebob are unacceptable. I am pumping orange juice and antibiotics down her throat with a vengeance- vacation is in less than 3 weeks!

Oh crap. As soon as I typed that out, I realized where she got that lovely character flaw from. When I am sick (which, as a mother, I am allowed to do SO very often), I have a very exacting list of items, down to the right blanket and condition of my room (cannot be appropriately sick in a messy room) that Eric must comply with. After being married for almost 10 years, he's gotten pretty good at it. I guess payback always comes in the form of your own children.

Anyways- on today's agenda: Forcing my children to write Valentine's cards for all the kids in their class ("Even the boys?" "Yes, even the boys." "But I don't LOVE them!" "It's okay, you can give valentine's to you friends, too." "But they'll think I LOVE THEM and I DO NOT LOVE THEM!! AHHHH") I hope the boys all like the sparkly Tinkerbell tatoos that come with Ella's cards. I also have to make 4 dozen rice crispy treat cookies on sticks and decorate them. Because I am an idiot. Why do these things look like such a great idea while you're in Michaels and spending $27 dollars on various supplies, but not so good when you're home with all the junk spread out on the counter and you realize you're going to have to fill that #&^%$ lollipop pan with rice crispies 8 times before you are done, and logistically you're not so sure that will work, what with the hardening of the treats and all, and you are forced to bang your head repeatedly on the counter and swear to never go into Michaels again.

I also have to figure out what to do with a big red wooden ladder I bought at an antique store this weekend, because I will not be allowed out of the house with my debit card ever again unless I can prove to Eric that old ladders = fantastic decorative accents, and are also highly affordable, as far as useless ladders that lead to nowhere go. So now I have a red ladder in my family room, and no freaking idea what to do with it. I am home decorating impaired. I seriously freeze up and become incapable of any sort of fancying up my house. I even had to drag my neighbor in off the street so she could tell me where to put a rug. It's a very sad disability, I should qualify for free interior design assistance from the government or something.

Wow, the life of a housewife is complicated and excrutiating. I should probably go back to bed. I'll probably be up all night making cookies and forging my children's names on valentine's day cards anyways.