The Long Version

I sent in an email this morning to my kids’ teachers that said “They’re off their food, and they are complaining about stomach pain, and I don’t want them to get sick, so we are staying home to watch movies today and hopefully head off any illness.”

If I had been absolutely truthful, I would have said,

“My stomach started acting up this weekend because I ate some fiery hot salsa at an awesome Tex-Mex place even though I know better, and I spent half of it in bed and the other half in the bathroom, and I’ve spent two fucking years of my life puking, I’ve had enough of it. I hate puking. The last thing in the world I want is for my kids to puke anywhere near me, where I have to hear it or clean it up so if I think they might be getting sick, they’re staying on the sofa covered with blankets.

Furthermore, last weekend was busy and this week has been busy and next weekend is busy and I just need a day where I don’t have to get anyone up and fed and into a clean uniform.

I’m a complete laundry failure and they don’t have any clean uniforms.

I like my kids and I feel like hanging out with them all day. I’m having one of those moments where I think I’d like to home school. Or unschool them for a year or four. They’re smart little monsters — they can pick up what they’ve missed later on. Besides, I might die and I want to spend as much time as I can with them while I can. So they won’t be in school today.”

That last one sounds morbid. I am not feeling particularly morbid (today), but it’s the reality of my life. I also like my kids, so spending time with them is a bonus — and I’m glad we appear to have averted the stomach bug by staying home today. Knock wood.