Cockatoo or Kids -- It's a Toss-Up

After the past few days, I can totally relate to Donna Greenwell.

Who is Donna Greenwell, you ask?

Well, she's a trucker in Louisiana who apparently traded two children in her care for a cockatoo and $175.

At this point, I don't blame her. In fact, I'd like to meet her. I want to be her BFF.

You see, for the past five days, I've been at home with my little bugger "Dennis", also known as "Dee", who had some surgery last Thursday and has since been pretty much bedridden and driving us all crazy in pain. We won't really talk about the weekend, because Mr. Handsome was here and took good care of Dee while I had three-hour naps and bubble baths. But, while the weekend was better since Mr. Handsome was present (in very loose terms here), I'm ignoring that because all the stress and worry still fell on my shoulders, as it always does. Even while I slept. That's what I mean. This is my life.

Little Dee is actually starting to do much better today, but man, those first four days...let me just say a cockatoo was looking pretty damn good. Forget the cockatoo. Just the $175 was looking mighty fine. Heck, I would have paid someone more than $175 by Sunday.

Dee is a great patient, for the most part. I don't blame him for crying because of the pain he has been in, or the frustration because he can't do anything for himself. If that bothered me, I wouldn't be much of a mother, would I? What kind of a mother do you think I am, for god's sake. In fact, my mothering instincts were in full force mode. I even shed a couple of real tears for him because there was nothing more I could do for him, and I knew he was feeling like a truck had just run over him a couple of times. If I could, I would have taken the pain for him in a milli-second. Honest.

Okay, maybe not for very long, but I would have done it for as long as I could have, as long as I had my bottle of vodka beside me, and a full bottle of Vicodin. Can you say empathy?

What was making me a little crazy these past few days was that Dee has been developing this habit of whining, and I don't do whining very well. Not well at all. In fact, not at all. Even if the whining is purposeful.

On top of that, Dee got into being very demanding, as in, "Help me up, I have to pee and I can't move." How rude, eh? Or, "Stop talking, because you're making me laugh, and laughing really hurts! So stoooooooopppp!" And then he'd start crying. So I would ply him with an extra dose of codeine and he would sleep for a few hours, giving me the peace and quiet I deserve.
And this is more than any mother should have to deal with. I'm sure you all agree. He could at least ask nicely, extreme pain or no pain. Right? I don't ask for much, really.

In addition to all this hullabaloo, Em wasn't making things any easier. She has been having way too much fun bullying her little brother, and sighing extra loudly whenever Dee cries, and telling him to be quiet or else. It just doesn't make for a very peaceful and relaxing home, which is all I really ask for in this wild world. And if the Goddess doesn't get her peace and quiet, no one's happy.

So, if anyone has a cockatoo, have I got a deal for you! At this point, I'll even consider one that isn't breathing...