Just like when Disneyland brought back the Main Street Electrical Parade, Kristine has rebirthed Stuff Portrait Friday!  If you’re wondering what all the fuss is about, go visit her and see for yerself.

Today’s assignment: A favorite picture.  This was tough.  I have so many.  How can I pick just one?  I’ve got two kids, and a husband and a ton of hilararious satirical pictures.  How do I choose?  So I went with art.  Not very personal, but I lurve this picture.  I don’t have it in my home…yet.  The hubby always wants details when it comes to a new purchase.  “Where are you going to put it?”  Well, because I didn’t have an exact answer, it was lovingly suggested that we wait until I had just the spot.  He does not understand that once a purchase is in the home, the perfect spot will present itself.  It is not necessary to think of these things before hand. 

So here I give you Jack Vetriano’s The Singing Butler.

Did you play?

So there’s this thing that happens each and every time the big man of the house is gone: my kids get sick.  Siiiiiick.  Not the cool kind of sick either, like “dude that is sooo sick!”  Usually, I have a couple of good weeks to wallow in my misery of being a single mom before the 2am puke fest begins.  This year…whoa…let me tell YOU.  This year they are my little overachievers!  He left on Thursday.  My daughter has a fever of 103 on Sunday.  My son comes home from school on Monday with the flu.  No really, the flu.  Not the tummy bug but the whole lung/nose/head/tummy thing.  Oh, did I mention that my place of employment is my reason for remaining sane?  It’s my break three days out of the week from my lovely offspring and gives me just enough time away to be ready to face them for the rest of their waking hours. Monday afternoon, throughout Tuesday and now into Wednesday I have had them home with me all day.  I’m either thinking of making myself a drink or making one for them; I haven’t figured out which one would be better. 

I took my boy to the doctor this morning and wouldn’t you know it, it was no ordinary trip.  I had to park in the farthest lot because all of the good spaces were taken up by those coming in for excessive spring break partying (I’m guessing, but it could happen), old retired folk needing to refill their prescription for Aspercreme and women bursting at the seams, ready to have their baby any second.  C’mon, do these people really need to take the closest spots?  Huh?  So we were seen and then sent to x-ray because my son’s a little OCD like his momma and likes routine and he was in last March with pneumonia and they wanted to check for that again.  We waited.  And waited.  And then waited some more.  I’m not one to stir the pot.  I will definitely put myself out to not put anyone else out, but 45 minutes go by and we’re still waiting to hear the results of the x-ray.  Finally, it takes the doctor walking back and yelling at the techs to get their booty’s in gear to send the results.  Oh yeah, he’s got pneumonia again.  Same lung.  Yippee!! Let’s have ice cream.  Oh wait, we have to wait some more to get our prescription filled.  So another hour later we finally leave (3 ½ hours at the hospital-RIDICULOUS!!)  And now my daughter has croup.

 Am I the luckiest mom or what??  My husband owes me diamonds.  Big ones.  And a trip to the day spa.  And lots of Starbucks.  And chocolate chip cookies*.

*Update* I should have wished for a million dollars or something because not 5 minutes after I hit post, the doorbell rang and Mr. UPS man was dropping off a box from Mrs. Fields.  Swear!  Mr. Lobster’s aunt had sent an Easter goody box with chocolate, brownies and (dun dun dunnnn) chocolate chip cookies.  Man, that is soooo sick!

Here we go again.  If I had only known then what I know now.  How many times can someone say this?  Mr. Lobster, my DH, is somewhere over some ocean on his way to work for a very very long time.  This will be trip number four since 2003.  Do you know how insane I have become as a result of these trips?  I’ve lost brain cells, hair follicles, the ability to retain anything in my memory and occasionally my sense of humor.

 It’s part of his job; I understand.  What I don’t understand is why he seems to be the one to go every single time, regardless of what he’s doing and where he’s doing it.  There’s so many others who have not had the opportunity to participate.  I’m ready to spend more than 12 months with my hubby before he leaves me again.  GRRRR!!!

 So, I have total parent duty for as long as I can see.  Right now, there is no light at the end of the tunnel.  It ends waaaaay down there, and we’re not quite sure where “down there” is yet.  Meals, cleaning, shopping, reading, bathing, driving, entertaining, nurturing and everything else that goes along with parenting is fully on my plate along with running the household, managing the money, taking care of the animals and every other thing that will be thrown my way (because they always are when the cat’s away).

Yes,  I am complaining.  He hasn’t been gone for 24 hours yet, it’s my right.  I miss him like crazy already.

Now I’m off to start a load of laundry, make lunches to pack up for our park outing later, dress up my daughter in her ballet clothes and get started on my Friday.