"Disclaimer reads Warning Explosive Content; handle with care

When did I get here?

My boo is sick... she has asthma issues when she gets colds.. well at least that's what the doc is telling me. So I use a nebulizer and she's on steroids.

When I got the prescription filled for her steroids the pharmacist actually came out from behind the counter, over to where I was waiting for the prescription to be ready and said...

"ok, now... this is more than likely going to have an effect on how your daughter acts. I mean, she'll probably be a little more emotional and a little more hyper, not sleep so well.... so you know."

Now, I'm not sure if that's the "official disclaimer" that they for some legal reason or another can't actually print on the bottle.. or if it's just a nice way to say...

"Look lady... I'm giving your kid some drug that's going to make her nuts and consequentially... you're going to want to beat her.. but don't.. it's not her fault."

Hmmm.. I think.. it's going to be a long week.

This was yesterday morning.

I dropped her off at daycare, and went to work. (I'm the only person bringing home the bacon, and I only get so many sick days a year which are reserved for days with fevers, or communicable diseases, like the measels or something, or she just is so bad she lays there and needs me to hold her. But if she's running around playing, she goes to daycare, cuz I gotta work.)
I gave Shelly instructions not to hesitate to call me, and off I went.

I picked her up at her usual time, and she came with another disclaimer...
"She hasn't slept, she laid down for her nap, but didn't actually sleep."

Oh super..
She happend to be sitting outside playing with sidewalk chalk, and ignoring me.

hmmm... usually she sees or hears me and screams MOMMIE! and comes running.

Nope.

"Boo!"

Nothing except the scrape, scrape, scrape of the chalk on the drive.

"Boo-boo... we have to go home."

She didn't even turn her head, but did however manage to pick up the entire bucket of chalk and dump it.

"Ella, we have to go home, now you need to pick up the chalk and put it away."

Nothing.

A little boy decided he was going to pick it up for her to which normally I would've stopped him and made her be responsible, but there was something telling me to let it be.

I found my self treating her as if she were a bomb someone found and reported to the bomb squad (yours truly) on the drive, and carefully moved in to ask her one more time to get up so we could walk to the car.

Nothing.

"Oh shit.. here we go" I said under my breath...

As I picked her up the ticking of the bomb started to affect her little legs and arms and she closely resembled one of those string puppets where the puppeteer has had an epilepsy attack. Except puppets don't scream "I wanna Waaaaaaaa (breath) aaaaaaahhh (breath) aaaaaaaaaall (breath) aaaaakkk!! (REPEAT.)

I somehow managed to get her little body strapped in the car seat as she hit, kicked and screamed at me.

All the while my inner child and I had a discussion that went something like this:
"Hit her back! Hit her back!"

"No, no,no.. I'm the adult here."

"Awww.. come on just hit her!"

"NO!"

"yeah, yeah do it.. do it.. hit her back, wow... she really smacked you ... smack her back!"

"NO!" I shouted in silence to my self... it's not her fault, she's two.. it's not her fault.. she's two.. I managed to keep on replay in my head drowning out my inner brat.

She screamed all the way home until about a block and a half where she fell asleep mid scream.. no shit. Mid scream.

Well the night went pretty much the same as the 15 minutes I just relayed above so I won't bore you with those details.. when she finallly went back to sleep at about 10:30pm I breathed a sigh of relief, and thought.. thank GOD I have to go to work tomorrow and not be around her all day.

And then...

She woke up.. not until 5:30am.. so no big deal, got ready, dropped her off at daycare. I dressed a little sassy cuz I needed the boost, and I was hoping just maybe I might be able to get a sitter and make it out to Trail....

I was at work about 25 min.. when I got the call

"Linda?, this is Shelly"

"Uh-oh"

"Well.. she's all right, but I really think she's feeling pretty bad, she's not moving.. her eyes are half shut and her mouth is half open...and well... I think maybe you should come get her, let her rest at home."

shit
"Ok.. I'll be right there."

Now... I remember the day before I took the E.P.T. test ... I was on a plane back from AZ where I partied my ass off and had an awesome time, and flying back, completely exhausted the plane seemed to be filled with people who had children... screaming, crying, noisy, seat kicking, whining children... and I thought... man I am NEVER going to have kids!

The following day I took the E.P.T., yep, you guessed it POSITIVE...

Right.

So here I am it's Friday about 7pm.. and I've spent the day with Miss DyNoMitE!

I am on my second glass of wine and she's still awake. I usually never have a glass until she's in bed asleep, and then it's only one, since I'm a single mama and have to be repsonsible incase something were to happen.

My second glass of wine....

Daughter is still alive, unbruised, unharmed, and unbeaten... I had no idea that dynomite was like those trick candles you can buy... that just keep relighting and going out, relighting and going out... I've lost count of how many times she's exploded, screamed, cried, whined (at a very high volume mind you) and how many times I've told myself to give her slack, walk away, she's a baby that's sick and on steroids...oh.. how... I. am grateful for my second glass of wine to combat the ever present whine (at a very high volume mind you.....