Saturday, January 20, 2018

Fuck you, Dear Winter.

When January rolls around, not only are you suffering from a holiday hangover, parents of young children are dealing with much, much worse.

A pandemic, really.

Her name is... Dear Winter.

Dear Winter creeps into your children's rooms each night and wraps her scratchy, cold arms around our little ones and breaths darkness into their little bodies.

Dear Winter hates adults, too, however seemingly most focused on those under 5.  You know, the ones that also have another young sibling that hasn't yet been exposed to all the nasty, blood sucking germs that she exhales.

Which works out perfect, because then Dear Winter get's what I like to call a "two-for-one."

She sneaks into the younger one's room and pounces like a vulture after it's prey.  Breathing sickness that only winter can possess, into your child's face.

The next morning, the only trace she leaves behind is one pissed off baby, screaming bloody murder while caked in vomit with a smell that burns your nose hairs.

We parents spend our morning scooping up vomit, sticking a thermometer into our hysterical babies asshole all while trying to find time to take a shit ourselves and quarantine the older child because you can't, you just can't, deal with another epidemic taking down your house.

You can leave now, Dear Winter.

Actually, on second thought, why don't you stay?  I could use the help trucking my 22lb child, that has turned into a fever consumed limp noodle, into the doctor's office for the 5th time this week. 

Could you carry the diaper bag loaded with 3 extra sets of clothes, because those watery shits that join us with each fucking fever are so easy to contain.

With each fart, we moms brace ourselves.  The hair standing up on the back of our neck because we know what the next 20 minutes will hold.

Twenty minutes started with stripping down a pissed off baby, covered in watery shit.  Wiping a bright red ass that's on fire from yet another round of antibiotics our Doctors so love to prescribe, all while trying to contain a small child that suddenly has the strength of Stone Cold Fucking Steve Austin.

Yes, I could use the help, you bitch.

Also, could you swing by on your way out and pick up the older child from school?  Daycare just called and it seems you've taken down my three year old, now too.

I have a meeting with my boss in 20 minutes, and a presentation later this afternoon.

Because, you know, these calls from Daycare always happen on days filled with meetings, important conference calls and the happy hour you've been desperately looking forward to for 3 fucking weeks.

The older one, yeah, she apparently woke up from her nap with a fever. A fever YOU brought into my home, you whore.

So yeah, please stay.  You've already taken down half my house anyway.

And tonight, tonight I could really use the help.  Especially at midnight, 2:30 am and 4:00, when my children wake up screaming from the ferocious fever you so kindly gifted them. The baby will need the thermometer lodged into her ass again, because you know, she loves that so much. Then, she'll need another dose of Motrin for her 103 degree fever.

And if we're really lucky, we'll end up taking an unexpected trip to the Emergency Room because we did what every mother should never do.

We googled.  

We googled every symptom that comes to mind.

Because we're delirious.

We haven't slept in three fucking weeks because of you, Dear Winter.

So yeah, I'll need help waking up my other child from a dead sleep so I can load her up and drop her off at Grandma & Grandpa's in the middle of the night, because I'm now 100% convinced the baby has typhoid fever or some other rare disease that only Google knows about.

But tomorrow, I need you to leave.

I need you to get the F out of my home, for good. 

I need sun.

And warmth.

Warmth not only for me, but for my children that upon surviving typhoid fever, they bounce back with a vengeance. 

A vengeance of energy I've never seen before. 

Suddenly they're capable of running faster and screaming louder than I've ever witnessed before.

So yeah, we need warmth.  We need the OUTDOORS.

And most of all, I need wine.

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