I'm raising a comedienne

Well, it's official. I've broken my back. (Well, not really. But it hurts!)

Only, I don't remember doing anything that could possibly have caused this amount of pain. You'd think that being kicked from behind by a ninja would kind of stay with me. Only maybe I can't remember because I have amnesia! It must have happened yesterday when my sister was regaling me with stories about the sociopaths she works with. Usually I just tune right in, all on edge and crap to hear which hostess beat up a customer in the bathroom or who didn't come to work high that day, but since I have pretty much no recollection of anything she said I'm pretty sure she was the one who did it. She is awful feisty and there was this one time I pissed her off- I think we were like ten and thirteen years old-  and she took a pair of scissors to my brand new blanket. So what if I had cut the tail off her favorite My Little Pony. She was too old for that thing anyway. (Never-you-mind that I played Barbies until I was 12). 

Anyway. I'm in pain. I've taken to my bed with a hot compress, heating pad (because I actually forgot to heat up the compress, which is actually more of a rice bag but WHATEVER), the laptop and the kitten (because he's everywhere I want to be).

I was just settling in when my 5 year-old wandered in. She climbed up on the bed and snuggled up beside me. I froze because frankly, I believed she was there to tattle on one of the big kids. Nothing. She closed her eyes and gave a tiny smile. I thought we were going to enjoy a nice peaceful moment where I could relax and perhaps she would go the eff to sleep! because the three tiniest terrorists have recently decided that naps are for weenies. Yeah. They're also for incredibly whiny girls, which is what the three of them are! And before you go and get all "judgy" on me, I will tell you that this kid? NEEDS to sleep. I have another one just like her, but in a 9 year-old form. You do not mess with these two when they are sleep deprived. 

But I digress (again). So I'm sitting there, the kitten sleeping by my feet, the girl snuggled by my side and I'm just about to get roaring on my celebrity gossip thesis statement photo editing Facebook updates when the girl pops open one eye. You know, that kid is kind of creepy. Have you ever happened to glance at someone when they do something totally wacko like that? I've only just begun to tolerate scary movies. When my kid looks like she's watching me with her cyclops eye my mind starts to freak out a little bit.

I'm eyeing her warily when she sits straight up and looks around. She spies the kitten and of course, lunges for him (how she missed him up until this point I'll never know. Maybe her one creepy eye needs glasses?) Of course he hisses and claws my feet and of course she follows him off the bed and under it.

Cool. She's occupied. 

I can hear her talking to the kitty and scrambling around on the floor, but honestly I'm pretty occupied with important useless status updates and unable pay a whole lot of attention to her (I'm seeing a pattern here). 

And then it gets quiet. 

Me: 5? (Yes. My sister and I absolutely refer to them by their ages. That way we don't end up doing the Roll Call like our parents did. It makes the kids more of individuals. Nevermind that there are actually two 5 year old girls.)

5: (muffled) Yes?

Me: What are you doing?

5: I'm just getting this.

Me: Come out from under there please (they should think about creating an "I don't care" button for status updates)

5: *crickets chirp*

Me: Kid?

5: (leaps up from the side of the bed waving two fistfuls of cockroaches) RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!

Me: (fall off bed*heart attack*die*funeral)

They were plastic. And I knew we had them (and yes, I will tell you that story tomorrow). But REALLY?!  My child is a nutcase and thanks to her, I'm stuck on the floor with a broken back.

Please send help. Or chocolate.

And a vacuum. Those plastic roaches are everywhere down here.