A Cop, A Nurse, and a Personal Trainer...a regular crackerjack day.

The house is very warm as the fireplace has been stoked. A three-year-old boy is standing in his underwear. Plants are knocked over, one small tree is up on the kitchen table.

One woman is practicing sit-ups on the floor, another is calmly making salad and apple crisp.  There is pee on the floor, an infant is about to fall down the stairs and another little girl is pounding on the piano.  There are toys everywhere.

Unable to move, I have my head down on the table, with blurred vision, a swollen face and a wet cloth over my left eye, watching the sit-ups.  I feel drunk, mugged, and extremely hungry. There is a green paper ticket close by, slightly damp, and accusing.

*****

Sometimes a think there is a drama fairy following me around, sprinkling pixie dust over me at her leisure, or perhaps a ridiculous fairy touching me with her wand.  Why can't it just be the tooth fairy giving me random quarters under my pillow? Of course, then I wouldn't have any teeth - and then she'd have a go at Mr. Man's.

With a life like mine, I have discovered how important it is to have a nurse as a BFF.  Whatever they learn in nursing school pours over into their everyday life.  Coping strategies include calmness during stressful situations, a straight face when you tell them something gross or tragic, and they are always, ALWAYS equipped with emergency kits and medicine - sometimes great tupperware containers full.

So have you guessed what happened?

No, I did not get mugged, and yes, a child peed on the floor.  Apparently, if you hang the kid upside down the pee will stop leaving the culprit's bladder. Did you know that? I guess they teach you that in nursing school.  But don't you dare use the wrong cloth to clean it up, as nurses have issues with germs.  (At least we didn't use the bum cloth on the kid's face.)

The sit-ups? Simple enough: my personal trainer. She's eager.  'nuff said.

The rest of the mess was any regular day in the life of three moms.  No surprises there.

So what happened to me?

I have an unpublished post tucked away about my driving skills and how awesome I am.  Yes, I know, a terrible lie, and subsequently, this is the day I get pulled over by the police.

Of course, I did what anyone would do: I bawled my eyes out.

I bawled on the side of the road, I bawled as I drove down the road, and bawled in my friend's driveway. By the time I got in the house, I looked like I'd been beat up. But that's not all.
Nothing compared to the stinging in my eyes a few minutes later.

Peanut butter.

I am not kidding.

And don't let nursey tell you otherwise. It WAS peanut butter. Nothing else has that effect on me.

Just as I had accepted my life as an outlaw, the fairies hit me again and I realize I've been poisoned.  My eye is swelling and then my lips, and once again I am reminded of the movie, Hitch, drinking antihistamine from a straw.  Nursey quickly gives me a large dose of liquid benadryl from her huge medicine bin and I moan and complain until the drugs hit me and I fall to the table.  The antidote works quickly but I am done over and unable to function.

At this point all havoc breaks out in the living room.  A kid is peeing on the floor, giving us that far off look of "I know I shouldn't do this but ah, such relief."  Plants are being pulled over, puzzle pieces are being thrown and the piano is giving out some loud sharps and flats.  The mothers are up and running and suddenly I am shaking, freezing and starving like any druggy would be when completely high.

As the fairies giggle in the background, the commotion settles, sit-ups are back in motion and I eat way more than allotted by my trainer.  And the heat is turned up until I stop shivering.

Throughout all of this, the trainer is laughing and the nurse calmly continues with our visit as if nothing has happened and I am not passed out on her table.

Mr. Man finds out and texts that I am not allowed to go over there again.

But somehow, he is not surprised.