Undead

(I know this is a boy...but let's be honest, I look like this most days...the clothes are pretty much spot on)

What's the first sign of going crazy? Isn't it Hallucinations or something? What about not understanding questions...I think I'm on the verge of going completely cray-cray, ya'll. People are asking me questions in all seriousness and they are NOT making any sense!

"Why is that fat man wearing a red shirt?"
Because he likes the color red? It was laundry day and that's all that was left? I don't know. Eat your bag of goldfish and don't call people fat.

"Why didn't Mikayla drink her water?"
You'll have to ask her. I was too busy chasing a naked eighteen month old around the house with a diaper and cleaning up...ummm...messes.

"How do they make clean yogurt?"
You got me there, Hunter. How DO they make clean yogurt?

 My brain is already frazzled and pretty much mush at this point. I don't want my kids to see the movie warm bodies because they'd get all freaked out that mommy was one.of.them. (Oh. And the language, creepy weird skeletons, and other schtuff may be a teensy bit too much for them.)

And then they go and start talking nonsense. What am I supposed to do with that? I can only make up so many answers! I am not wikipedia for crying out loud!!

Phobias? Again?

Oh...my word. I've talked about my insane phobia before. But did you know that when you have kids, they puke? That was not in the brochure (or on those sweet little huggies commercials). I'm starting to become desensitized...starting. Mikayla had a stomach bug (ie: horrendous-stomach-destroying phobia-inducing-scar-you-for-life-puke-till-your-guts-fall-out flu). But being the good mother that I am, I stayed with her the entire time. That's right. Where's my trophy. I may have been thinking "oh, mygosh, oh, mygosh! Don't puke on me, pleeease don't puke on me! If I get sick I'm going to die. I.will.die. Who gave this to her? WHO??? That's it! She's never go to school again!!" But I was all calm and motherly on the outside and that's really all that matters, right?

Well, now we have a bit of a situation. She now has the same exact phobia. She could just be playing me like a fiddle, knowing how much I hate puke...and it almost worked. "Mommy, Jonas puked in the sink today. I don't want to go to school anymore." "Mommy, another boy threw up. Do I have to go to school? Please don't make me go to school? I don't want to throw up!"

I gotcha sister. I feel the same way "I know sweetie. But germs are everywhere. Do you want to go to the play place?" "Yes!" "Well, honey, germs are there too. The park? Yep...it's got germs too. Flipside? Where do you think you got sick the last time? You can't escape them, honey bunches. Now go get your backpack."

So, yeah. We may have a whole new set of problems now...