It’s Saturday morning, 8:57am. My husband and daughter are still sound asleep, sleeping off their “Sweetheart Ball” hangovers on my scheduled sleep-in day. My son and I have been watching cartoons since 6:35. I thought it was a school day, his explanation at 6:30, fully dressed.
“You told me I should always get dressed as soon as I wake-up then come tell you.”
Good times, good times.
It’s not that I’m begrudging last night’s, father-daughter Valentine’s Day dance extravaganza and subsequent sleep-in way past the reasonable sleep-in hour. No, no. It’s that I might be suffering from Post Valentine’s Day Evil Mother Syndrome, PVDEMS. It can last anywhere from 2-14 days, and it’s going on Day 4 for me I think. I probably should be seen. Too bad it’s Saturday morning and I can’t get an appointment down at Urgent Care because they’re only taking “emergency” patients, blah, blah, blah. If this isn’t a valid emergency I don’t know what is, I just raided each of my children’s Valentine’s candy for the third day in a row while trying to walk past it on my way to the coffee pot.
“Is your father up yet? Is your sister up yet??”
“Um, Mama… I think you’re screaming a little.”
Oh, no, I am not. I am NOT a begrudgeoner. It’s the Hershey Kisses screaming, the Sweethearts, the Rolos, the homemade hearts on a stick smothered in rainbow sprinkles, the Dum Dums, the special edition pink and purple M & M’s, the strawberry marshmallow hearts, the Blow-Pops. It’s the ’frickin Fun Dip, I tell you!
PVDEMS ain’t pretty, people -- especially on a Saturday morning when your head should still be near a pillow instead of the interior of a pink and red crepe-papered box.
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