Thank God for veterans and bosses who like to give days off!For I like to think of myself as a "different" sort of veteran - a veteran of the War with Teenage Daughters! And a day like today could provide a welcome respite from my Never-ending Traumatic Stress Syndrome.
A day to do with what I like - for the office is closed, the high school is open, and the hubby's at work. . . . a day when I could forget my fear of automobile accidents and wardrobe malfunctions. . . when I could call a truce in the college application skirmish . . . revel in the silence. . . turn off the phone . . . make sure the kitchen sink remained dish-free . . . alphabetize my spice rack . . . . give the dog a pet-a-cure. . . .the possibilities were endless!
Except. . .
Except that one of those teenagers had the misfortune of being sick today.
Not so sick that I had to call the doctor . . . but "ill" enough to break the magical spell that I had scheduled to descend upon on the house at exactly 8:01 a.m.
Never-the-less, I let her return to her bed, knowing full-well that my little sleeping beauty might very well slumber until 2:45 - the exact minute the spell was due to be broken when her sister returned home from school.
No such luck!
That spell was broken at 11:07 a.m. when her evil sister called to ask her how she was expected to get home from school (you know, seeing she had the bad taste to be sick and was not posing as the sister's personal chauffeur today.)
Next, I found myself in the position of policing my ill daughter's actions - making sure she wasn't on facebook - and following her with a dustbuster as she - like Hansel and Gretel - left a trail of crumbs in her wake.
Then, before you know it, I found myself in negotiations with the same daughter - repeatedly defending my position that, No! Suzie and her boyfriend can not come over after school! You're sick! afterwhich I had to literally shoo Suzie away from the front door when she showed up. . .
And finally, I stood accused, and was found guilty, of interrogating my younger daughter when I entered the family room to ask about her school day.
I'm sorry to sound so heartless, but why do these girls have to spoil my magical day off??? (Oh, and Daughter Number One? If you are even thinking of picking up the phone to call me from college with a complaint, inquiry, or request for funding - you'd be well-advised to hold off 'til tomorrow. . . )
But today, I want to sprinkle a little pixie dust and be done with them!
