No holiday season is complete without a trip to the emergency room, am I right? Parents and people with icy steps and drunk uncles everywhere are unwillingly nodding in agreement.
Today I brought Gutsy to our local children's hospital. We suspected pneumonia (he's had it several times for some unknown reason), but thankfully it just turned out to be a very long, very rotten cold. He's in bed now, and every time he coughs I wince and create worry lines on my beautiful face. Welcome to the premature aging process called motherhood.
Speaking of which, while were waiting for the doctor, I came across a handy-dandy chart of faces in various stages of distress. Gutsy said, "I think it's so little kids can tell them how much pain they're in."
Seemingly valid use, but I call bullshit. I think they stole this thing from a parent support group. The therapist probably gets distraught mothers and fathers to point at it when they're too emotional to use their words - which, in my case, would be often.
See those faces? I have made all of those faces.
0. The face I make when I gaze upon my cooperative little children and forget anything before 10 minutes ago. I'm pretty sure this forgetfulness is a mammalian trait that ensures the survival of our species.
2. This is the face I made every morning for the first 18 months of all my children's lives as I stumbled blurry-eyed to the coffee pot.
4. And this is the face I made when I realized we were out of coffee.
6. Poop in the bath. I am weeping because there is poop in the fucking bath.
8. That's how I looked every time Spawnling bit another kid at playgroup. There's no 9, but the time he hit a friend's kid across the face with a truck and made him bleed all over his mom's white designer sweater? That was a 9.
10. HOLY MOTHER OF AGONY YOU JUST CLAMPED DOWN ON MY NIPPLE.
My only complaint is that there's no 12. Clearly the person who made this has never stepped on Lego.
Today I brought Gutsy to our local children's hospital. We suspected pneumonia (he's had it several times for some unknown reason), but thankfully it just turned out to be a very long, very rotten cold. He's in bed now, and every time he coughs I wince and create worry lines on my beautiful face. Welcome to the premature aging process called motherhood.
Speaking of which, while were waiting for the doctor, I came across a handy-dandy chart of faces in various stages of distress. Gutsy said, "I think it's so little kids can tell them how much pain they're in."
Seemingly valid use, but I call bullshit. I think they stole this thing from a parent support group. The therapist probably gets distraught mothers and fathers to point at it when they're too emotional to use their words - which, in my case, would be often.
See those faces? I have made all of those faces.
0. The face I make when I gaze upon my cooperative little children and forget anything before 10 minutes ago. I'm pretty sure this forgetfulness is a mammalian trait that ensures the survival of our species.
2. This is the face I made every morning for the first 18 months of all my children's lives as I stumbled blurry-eyed to the coffee pot.
4. And this is the face I made when I realized we were out of coffee.
6. Poop in the bath. I am weeping because there is poop in the fucking bath.
8. That's how I looked every time Spawnling bit another kid at playgroup. There's no 9, but the time he hit a friend's kid across the face with a truck and made him bleed all over his mom's white designer sweater? That was a 9.
10. HOLY MOTHER OF AGONY YOU JUST CLAMPED DOWN ON MY NIPPLE.
My only complaint is that there's no 12. Clearly the person who made this has never stepped on Lego.