Another Actual Rant

You guys may have noticed, I don't rant all that much on the Coaster, despite my tantalizing promise on the Blogday Schedule. Check out my "rant" label... six rants, including today? Compared with twenty-one "random" posts? Pathetic. I should rant about myself! Complete with exaggerated abuse of exclamation points!!!!

It's just... I can't usually muster the energy to feel furious over anything. Still, I adore reading other people's rants, and I am devoted to the concept of a Wednesday rant. Now... today... that devotion will finally pay off.

Vomit. No, that wasn't a command. It's the topic of my rant. I have sick kids with some kind of horrifying stomach virus and I'm tired from late night puke-in-bed atrocities. It's too much, too much I say! Too many hours! Too many relatives giving useless suggestions!! Ohhh and there's another reason to rant! 

I hereby rant against "helpful" relatives and their old-timey and/or new-agey cure alls! (Notice the poignant use of quotations to highlight how NOT helpful they are!). Why is Vick's vapor rub the answer when he has no sinus issues? Why must we consult with relatives in other countries over the issue of a completely run-of-the-mill horrific stomach virus? How will rubbing the skin of a plantain over my two-year-old's belly keep him well? Don't answer that, blog friends; you are all writers and I know you'll come up with dozens of creative possibilities. Hmm, that might be fun... on second thought, answer away!

But back to the rant. Basically, I'm a horrible mother for not following everyone's advice, and that is why my kids are still sick. Rage, fury, long aggravated sighs of pent up hostility! More exclamation point abuse!!!!

And now, the final piece to the rant (I enjoy things that come in threes). Laundry. There's so much laundry. I hate normal laundry, so this kind of laundry is like my seventh circle of hell. The smells are vivid and clashing. Puke + fabric softener = putrid.

So much puke. So many reasons to feel ranty. But I'm tired. Not just tired in body, but in spirit. I can't go on. I've been beaten into submission. I accept my fate, World. I accept more puke than should be physically possible coming out of a two-year-old. I accept passive-aggressive, possibly insane relatives who delight in crushing my spirit. I accept overwhelming laundry that could turn the stomach of a war veteran. I accept personal issues that aren't appropriate for posting on a public blog. I understand, World! No rest for the weary, right? If anyone needs me I'll be off in that corner, my eyes half-closed, clutching the disinfectant spray and ready to come to life at a moment's yacking.