I find myself with some unexpected time to write a blog post today because rather than sitting for the third of my six days of grand jury duty, I am instead home with a vomit-plagued child.
Pretty sure I found some unexpected vomit as I walked through the kitchen just now. It’s not that I didn’t know she had puked here, it’s just that I clearly missed an important angle or needed additional light or something when I was cleaning this spot at 5 am. Parenting is the most glamorous job. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
It wasn’t long ago that I uttered the statement, “I don’t know…is this how far your bones normally stick out? Let me see your other arm,” to my child after she injured herself at a trampoline park. These two situations pretty much wrap up parenthood. Comparing your kids arm bones to see if she broke something and finding surprise vomit in the kitchen.
Sidebar: Yes, that is how far her bones normally stick out.
You know it’s a really great week in your household when you are awakened at 5 am to a panicked child telling you that they puked. a lot. and didn’t make it to the bathroom on time. And your reaction is, “Well, at least I get out of jury duty today.”
If patience is a finite resource that you have to parcel out over a lifetime, jury duty has nearly hit the bottom of my bucket. Whatever interest it held was gone by the afternoon of the first day, and then we went into overtime. Let me just say, while it sounds like a good idea to put our peers in between ourselves and the unfettered power of the government, I’m not sure we should be putting quite so much faith in the intelligence and understanding of our peers. It’s not like I’m even the sharpest lighbulb in the toolshed, ya know? But I have been FLOORED watching this process for two days. Yeesh. That’s all I can really say. YEESH!
So, yeah. I should probably go check on Rosalind now. I’m periodically needed to readjust blankets, change trash can angles in case of emergency, bring popcicles, and find better tv options. Glam.or.ous.