So, here we are after a weekend of being struck down by the plague. I'm just barely able to stand up again, although I wouldn't if I actually had the choice. Child 2 hasn't changed his clothes or left the bedroom or really even stood up since Thursday afternoon when he came home from school. Child 1 seems to have managed to escape the whole thing, I have no idea how. Yesterday he was supposed to spend the day with my parents so that he could just get out of the Plague House, except he woke up with a cough, which is how my plague started, so I kept him home. Boy was he pissed. Especially since he didn't end up actually getting sick, so he's just been stuck in this disease-ridden house with the rest of us, except he's not disease-ridden. Poor guy.
The weekend is over, which means that hubs has to go to work. I've already rescheduled some clients and am staying home today (not like I have a choice, though). Hubs, being the fucking kick-ass Mr. Awesome that he is, stays home as long as he possibly can so that I can sleep as long as I possibly can before he has to leave. At some point he comes in to where I'm sleeping in Child 1's room (and have been since fucking Wednesday. Seriously, I haven't slept in my own bed in a week now) and he asks who, if anybody, is going to school today? I answer with "Herp derp herpington derps all the herpers derpsalot derpburger" which apparently translates to "everybody is staying home today." In retrospect, had I been more alert, or even at all aware of what I was saying, I should have said that Child 1 was to go to school, but I simply did not have the mental capacity to make that happen. So, everybody stays home today.
I wake up around 11:30 to Child 1 pestering me about who is going to take him out today. Oh, god, why is he here?? Oh, right, that "herp" thing I said earlier.
Okay, so.... I need to figure out a way to get this kid out of the house so he'll stop bugging me. But, more importantly, I need to get Child 2 out of my fucking bed so that I can wash the sheets and actually sleep in it tonight. I figure once I get him out of the house I can then direct him to the couch downstairs. And Child 1 will be satisfied with any outing that gets him out of the house and that he has agreed to. So, what's something we can do that I will be able to tolerate, that they will be able to tolerate and that won't be too physically taxing on any of us?
Oh, yeah, baby: Target.
"Here's the plan," I tell them. "We're going to Target, where you guys can each pick out anything in the store that you want." (Also, I need half and half, which is crucial to my mental well being, in general). "And then we're going to McDonalds, and then we're coming home."
There's a bit of resistance at first from Child 1 who wants to go watch BART trains, but knowing my kids, as long as I give them things that they want and I don't argue about any of it, they'll eventually go along willingly. Funny how that works, right? Luckily I had a bag of mini Reese's cups, and nothing.... I repeat: nothing is a better motivator than chocolate and peanut butter. I get Child 1 to get dressed and agree to my plan by giving him 6, and I get Child 2 to get out of bed and get dressed and agree to my plan with the promise of 6, as well. He also really likes the idea of picking out whatever he wants at Target.
Okay! We're good to go. I drink a lot of coffee and we all get in the car. As we pull into the Target parking lot, I'm thinking about what we're going to do when we get home so that I can sit on the couch and stare at stuff, and I say "hey, let's get a movie, too!" There is a murmur of agreement from the back. "You guys can pick out one of anything that you want and we'll also try to agree on a movie. And if you can't agree on a movie, we'll get two movies." Then I actually heard what I had just said and I follow it up with "That's only because we're all sick, though, so don't get used to that, guys." Even though Child 1 isn't actually sick. Semantics. More agreeable murmuring from the back seat.
Once inside, Child 1 quickly picks out his "thing," which is a 100 pack of markers. Totally saw that coming, by the way, which is why I was careful to say they could pick out anything they wanted from the store and not just the toy section, because even a sick Child 2 would argue with me about logistics on that one (then, again, I made sure to fill up his pockets with Reese's before we left the house).
We go upstairs and Child 2 is obviously starting to deteriorate because he's just walking around in this adorable daze, but I direct him to the toy section and tell him to "pick out anything you want."
"Anything you want," however, very quickly gets some qualifications added onto it as we move through the aisles.
Anything you want as long as we don't already have one.
Anything you want as long as you know what it is. Can you tell me what that is? No? Then you can't have it.
Anything you want but NO GUNS.
Anything you want but $40 is kind of a lot.
Anything you want except this says "ages 10-12" and you're 5.
We eventually settle on some Cars-related track thingy, I don't even know, and we move to the DVD section.
At this point they're both obviously done with this outing but for some reason I haven't figured that out yet. (I'm slow. Also I'm sick, too!) Child 1 has discovered the very fun and exciting game of Run With the Cart and Then Let It Go and Watch It Fly Across the Store. Whatever, there's nobody around who's going to get hit and I don't have the energy to argue about it. Child 2 gets stopped by the giant TVs and just stands there, mouth agape, staring. I'm practically begging them to come and pick out a movie when I think WTF am I doing? FUCK the movie if they don't want one! "Okay, guys, we're done."
Our Target adventure over, we go to McDonalds and go home, where I'm immediately asked if we can watch the movie we just bought. That would be the one that we didn't buy. As I thought, I was able to shuttle Child 2 onto the couch and finally wash the sheets on my bed. Then, of course, this immediately happens:
I'm sleeping in my bed tonight if I have to fucking kill someone.