I don't respond well to stress.

I've been doing really well on my new fitness plan.

I've been doing well, that is, until my child started channeling evil spirits and stopped napping.

Yesterday she came home from daycare with a heinous cough, and we were up all night. Mostly me, though. She seemed to finally sleep through her own horriffic hacking at some point. Not me, though.

Fuck.

So I kept her home today, knowing that if I sent her in, she'd just come home with something progressively far worse.

"Your child has spina bifida".

"What? It was a cough this morning!"

"She had a cough this morning and you knowingly sent her in to daycare? Well, now it's spina bifida, and it serves you right, you neglectful, sorry excuse for a mother."

However, she was already home on Monday because of Veteran's Day. You know what? I've already spent three years supporting a veteran, aka, her no-child-support-paying-father. TAKE MY KID AND LET ME WORK!!!

My workload is now up to my neck, and Satan the Child spent the day trying to open every bleach bottle, painting the cats, exploring the medicine cabinet, and seeing how far she could turn the dials on the stovetop. I don't know what happened to her, but I will sacrifice goats and virgins to get my former, well-behaved child back immediately.

Then the phone rings, and it's my beloved boyfriend, mumbling into his cell phone. He said something like, "Hey, baby! I'm in a yacht off the coast of Malaga! You should be here... it's 22 degrees (72F), and.... " and I lose interest and start scowling at my computer screen again.

You should be here. It's 85, I'm in my underwear, and my living room is covered in maple syrup. Spain, schmain.

Needless to say, I had a frenzied large handful (ok, several handfuls) of Halloween candy for lunch. Mostly while desperately trying to have ONE PHONE CONVERSATION while my child screamed "I'M DONE NAPPING! I'M DONE NAPPING!" from behind her bedroom door, roughly seven minutes after I put her down for a nap. For dinner, we had French toast. In case you don't know the recipe, it's bread, eggs, cream, vanilla, and sugar, fried in butter and topped with butter and sugar, because the rest of the maple syrup is stuck in the grout of my living room floor tile.

Yeahp.

For my midnight snack, I'm having a large handful of laxatives and three gallons of water, 'cause I ain't going out like that. If you'd like to lodge a complaint, please feel free to post one. My response will sound something like hissing and spitting, and it will be on your phone, about two hours after you fall asleep.

Love ya.

Mean it.

Come pick up my kid.