Is this really my life?

Do you ever have one of those moments? One where it is as if you are watching yourself, starring as you, in a clip of your own life and you think, “Really? Is this really me, doing this…” I’ve had a few surreal moments this week. For instance this morning I found myself in the yard in the gray, pre-dawn light, wearing my nightgown and a pair of old flip flops following the dog (one of them) around with a plastic dish trying to catch his urine. Yes, really. You’d think for the $300.00 I paid yesterday the vet might provide that service, but you’d be wrong. Not only did I have the fun of collecting the specimen, I got to carry the container to the car and schlepp it to the vet’s office before going to work. Milo has been marking all over the house and we need to rule out a UTI. I sort of hope he has one, because otherwise I am at my wit’s end and have no idea what to do next. But he is really starting to piss me off. Pun intended.
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Next surreal moment.
Last night Scott was late and the kids and I ate supper at Gilligan (our counter island in the kitchen) as we often do when it is just us. And poor Moira is trying to tell me about this great and interesting experiment she did in school. And Sam wants more garlic bread and Maggie needs her ravioli cut up and I am listening, but half distracted, when Maggie suddenly starts to cry and shows me her arm. And it is red and a little swollen with a dark welt on it that sort of looks like a hive. Now, when you have a kid with a severe food allergy who suddenly seems to have hive like things breaking out at the table… So I whisk her off to the bathroom where I can look at her in the bright light and I’m breaking out the Benadryl when she says, “Do you want me to tell you what happened?” Um, yes. That’d be good. “Well, I bit myself,” she says. “And it really hurt.” I may not have been the most sympathetic mom.

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