Friday, May 25, 2012

R.I.P.



I didn’t want to get out of bed today.  I knew that when I finally got around to putting clothes on my dirty body (since I’m a mom and never get to shower) I would be pulling out my black yoga pants and black shirt.  I’m in mourning.

Last night before falling asleep to the sound of my husband snoring, I shed a few tears.  Then those tears turned into that ugly cry thing where snot starts to flow heavily down into your mouth but you don’t care because you are too busy trying to catch your breath.

I didn’t eat the leftover cereal my kids wasted before dumping down the sink.  I didn’t lock myself in the bathroom with my cell phone to catch up on some Words with Friends during a typical morning fight between two brothers.  I didn’t even pick up the phone to call my best friend and exchange stories on how our kids were driving us closer to pulling a Thelma & Louise. 

I eventually opened up my laptop, hiding in the laundry room so that no one would see what I was doing.  I went to Mr. Google and searched for local Catholic Churches.  I needed to find a priest.  I needed to find a priest ASAP. 

As I picked up the phone and dialed the number I knew that this phone call would probably be one of the hardest I’ve ever made.  But it needed to be done.  I needed to pull myself together and do it.

Sadly the Priest was no help.  I guess the Catholic Church has condemned exorcisms for years now.  Who knew?  Obviously not Hollywood and the writer of a movie I recently watched; jerk. 

So now, what is left for me to do?  I have a four year old who was once a wonderful, sweet, adorable, nice, just plain fun to be around kid.  But the demons have taken over his body.  They reached in and have taken his soul.  I need it back!  Someone please bring my son back.

Until then, I am living with a demon child… a demon four year old child.  Motherhood can have some pretty crappy moments. 

Talking about crappy- my four year old demon decided to stop using the toilet.  I’m now off to clean out his underpants.  The life of a living breathing…  Laundromat. 

1 comment:

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