I have never been a lover of the “FML” acronym. I think it’s melodramatic and just kind of deuchy. HOWEVER, today just may be the inauguration of that very phrase into my own vocabulary.
I was very thankful the vet was able to squeeze my suicidal dog into her schedule today. I was less ecstatic when I went to pick her up and had to stand in line for fifteen minutes as the frazzled office lady handled the mob. A mob of anxious people waiting to retrieve their sick expensive pets on a Sunday night. And in this town, that meant missing the everholy Seahawks game. High TREASON!!!
I also had my nightmare challenging kid with me. I don’t know what it was about this weekend in particular, but both of my kids needed to be inspected for rabies. We had feral, foaming, frustrating, infuriating children sun up to sun down. The only time they were cooperative together was on a video game, and that shit just isn’t going to be on all day. I don’t care who you are, you cannot contain or control a tweaked out 8 and 4 year old on Kirby. It ain’t pretty.
So my son was with me to pick up the patient. He was behaving because it was just us. Then about the 12 minute mark of waiting in line he began to get antsy. Things were too good for too long. Lets face it, after 10 minutes we all knew I was on borrowed time.
He began interrupting and acting up right as the tech comes to give me the grocery bag size med sack. She whipped out three bottles, two syringes, and a box and proceeded to give me the instructions…. verbally. … before I paid the bill… as my kid is tugging on my arm that he has to pee. … ..
Still not feeling an appropriate “FML”. I kept on.
I listened, I swear. I even remember her using English. The first item she brought out she even specified not to start until the next day.
She went through the rest. She pointed out it was all typed onto the bottles and also in triplicate stapled to my gigantic receipt, so i’m sure that’s where I spaced it.
Then I had to wait another 10 minutes for them to bring her out. Then they rang me up.
Needless to say by the time I got home, got the dog inside in her crate, reunited the feral children who immediately began ripping each other’s hair out, unloaded the car, got the dog bowl out, and took out the first pill bottle, all regional English and language was out of my brain. I remembered none of the verbal instructions and found the ONLY one with details was the first one she showed me.
Now i’m beginning to appreciate the FL in FML… but I hadn’t thrown in the towel yet.
I pull it together enough to give one of the meds. I eliminate the 2 that are “give 1 hour before food” and give her the right one.
All is well.
Someone gets slapped in the face with Spongebob.
Get to the table for dinner.
Just eat it, I don’t care. Just eat it. Yes it’s cheese. Just eat it. I don’t care if you don’t want “that kind”, just eat it. EAT THE F*CKING CHEEEEESE!!!
We finish the peaceful and intimate family meal and go upstairs because now it’s bedtime. I do not give a rat’s ass that it’s only 6:30, we are going UPSTAIRS!
I deal with the usurper again. He attempts a coup and is mightily rejected. He does not like this. I do not care.
Still hanging in there.
I PJ my daughter post bath, she brushes and gets into bed. I read. All is well.
I go to herd the big one into bed and notice a solid, coal-black turd sitting on his carpet beside the dresser.
“HOW did you not NOTICE there is a TURD that is black and disgusting ALL DAY right here?!!!”
and this is when the FML floods my brain.
The second dog is now vomiting and shitting black tar.
EFF. EMMMMMMM. EELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!
My heart is not strong enough for this kind of nonsense. My back is tensing as I type this. Momma needs a bar. Not a drink, a BAR. And a bartender to just know what to hand me and not ask any questions.
If I had the energy, I would squeeze a tear or two out for myself and revel in a pity party free of children. But I don’t. I have exactly enough energy to push the button on my electric reclining couch, lift the remote, and push a button.
If one more thing in his house shits on the carpet or let’s a body fluid leak out, I am picking up my car keys and driving to the nearest asylum. I am fully trained as a patient.
Sarcasmica 