Injure yourself doing a project, say, staining the baby's new dresser. Hurt your back badly enough that you have to hobble around like there's something in your pants.
Now, strap a small-ish bowling ball (five or six pounds) to your waist and wrap some duct tape around your chest in a manner that makes it difficult to breathe. Attempt to stand upright. Fail. Moan. Curse your overtaxed abdomen. Curse the fact that the only drug you can have is Extra-strength Tylenol. Admit defeat.
Go to bed, attempt to find a comfortable position. Realize there isn't one. Fall into a fitful sleep and have a dream that someone is violently kicking you. Wake up and realize that Superbaby is indeed kicking the sh*t out of you, and probably laughing.
Get three, maybe four, hours of sleep. Wake up to youngest child demanding binky. Refuse to get binky, insist that child should sleep. Wake up ten minutes later to youngest child now insisting that he's hungry. Suggest that youngest child get a job and buy his own damn food.
Stumble out of bed and begin your day. Wish the coffee was stronger. Rejoice that this is your next-to-last week at work. Curse the dog that went into your bag and ate the dog treats you forgot you had. Decide that dog is out to get you.
Get to work late.
Ummm good luck with all that.
Posted by: morgan | January 22, 2008 at 11:09 PM