On Friday afternoon I sat down to write this post, but I couldn’t come up with the right words. I tried again yesterday and here I am again, on Sunday evening, and I am still at a complete loss. It is, quite simply, too painful to trivialize with my voice.

So it has come to this. At a time when there is nothing I can say, I will simply state the facts.

* On February 17, 2004, my niece, Madison, died just shy of her first birthday. My son was too young to comprehend her passing. My daughter was five years old and understood all too well that her cousin was gone.

* On March 1, 2004, a schoolmate of my daughter was run over in our preschool parking lot. Michael was three years old. Telling my daughter that he had been killed in an accident was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

* On September 1, 2007, one of my son’s preschool classmates passed away. John was five, as was my son. My son was far too young to say goodbye to a friend and his friend was far too young to die.

* On October 15, 2009, a little girl who attended school with my daughter and whose family goes to our church lost her battle with Fanconi Anemia. Samantha was 11.

* And last week we learned that a nine year old at the school has an inoperable brain tumor and isn’t expected to live more than a year. A girl who used to play on my daughter’s soccer team and who, until last week, seemed perfectly fine.

Another child. I can not bear it.

I have not told my children yet. My 10 year old daughter and my seven year old son shouldn’t have to deal with losing their friends. Not so many of them. Not in the midst of childhood which is supposed to be carefree.

Not again.

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Ohmygosh, so like remember when I had swine flu and then after that I got pneumonia? And then my doctor called and sent me to the hospital because he thought I had a pulmonary embolism, but I took a test where I sucked in a bunch of radioactive stuff and the bad pain I was having was actually from pleurisy? And right after I got over the pleurisy pain, I got a cold? And then remember how I told my boss that it was TOTALLY a good thing that I had a sore throat because that meant my sinuses were draining? And then my sinuses stopped draining and I started coughing and my lungs felt like they were filled with concrete so I went to the emergency room in the middle of the night because I thought my pneumonia had come back? And remember how the doctor sent me for my third chest x-ray in the last month and then told me that all that gunk that drained out of my sinuses had gone down my throat and into my lungs?

So it turns out I don’t have recurring pneumonia, but it does turn out that the sore throat I had two days ago? Was not such a good thing after all.

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To my son:

“Maybe if you would have gone to the bathroom when I told you to, I wouldn’t be standing in the shower holding your piece of cheese and trying to wash my hair one-handed!”

“Is that stain on your jacket from when you threw up phlegm at recess or is it a blood stain from yesterday’s loose tooth?”

“Hurry up and go poop!”

To the puppy:

“Get your butt off my new throw pillow!”

“Get your butt off my laptop!”

“Hurry up and go poop!”

To my daughter:

“The puppy ate your soccer ball.”

To a newly purchased cleaning product:

“Your bottle says ‘streak-free shine’. You are not streak-free shining.”

To the television:

“Wow. Rick Springfield has had some work done.”

To my husband, when he asked me suggestively what was for dessert:

“Chocolate chip cookies.”

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I work in a school cafeteria. Okay, I’ll just say it. I’m a lunch lady. Stop laughing before I shove my mole in your face.

If you want to read why it’s the best job in the world, go here. If you don’t want to read that, just know. It is the best. I enjoy the work, I get to see my kids and the people I work with are fantastic. I really love my job. If it paid better I would call it downright perfection instead of referring to it as glorified volunteer work.

There are four of us permanently stationed in the cafeteria. There is my neighbor/friend/manager, who knows all the ins and outs of everything. From when to place the produce order, to the intricacies of the computer program, to which kids like to try to sneak an extra dessert.

I am Worker #1. I sometimes help with the computer work and lunch count, I do a lot of the food prep, serve the kids and help clean up.

Worker #2 arrives at 10:30 and helps with serving and clean up.

The last employee is the prefect. She controls the kids. She keeps the volume low and the mess to a minimum. She is the one who dismisses the children and keeps things orderly. She also has a different parent volunteer who comes in to help her every day.

With the exception of a couple of burns on my arms, nearly running out of taco meat and a few burned French fries, this has been a stress-free job. Until yesterday.

Yesterday, my neighbor/friend/manager went to a funeral and left me to work the computer in her absence. Because I would be doing that, a parent substitute came in to cover for me in the kitchen. Keep in mind, lunch begins being served at 11:15. Here’s a recap:

* At 10:30 Worker #2 arrives and says she has a migraine. She never complains and is always reliable and would never leave me hanging out to dry, so I know it’s the real deal.

* At 10:31 we determine the parent substitute can’t be the only person serving, as the entree is chef salad. The server has to ask each student if they want cheese, ham, pepperoni and/or croutons and add them to the bowl of lettuce. One server = Kids not eating until sunset.

* At 10:35 I begin calling every parent I can think of who might be able to come in and sub for Worker #2 so she can go home and have throbbing head and nausea in peace.

* At 10:45 I give up on finding a substitute.

* At 10:50 I call my pharmacist and ask her this hypothetical question. “Say I have a migraine and I took one Excedrin Migraine at 5:30 AM and another one at 10:15 AM, would it be okay to now take a pleurisy pain pill left over from when I had pneumonia?”

* At 10:51 pharmacist says, “No.”

* At 10:55 I run up to the office where there is a parent volunteer covering for the secretary, because the secretary is also at the funeral. I ask the parent if she can come volunteer in the cafeteria after she finishes volunteering in the office. She says, “Yes.” Yay! Problem solved!

* At 11:00 I explain the situation to everyone. The permanent prefect will help my substitute in the kitchen and they will both serve the kids. The volunteer who is scheduled to come in will be joined by the volunteer who will be coming down from the office. They will control the kids. I will work on the computer as planned. Got that? No? Me either.

* At 11:07 we realize that half the chairs are being used at the church for the funeral. Three of us make a beeline for the music room and steal all the chairs.

* At 11:10 I realize the mouse on the computer isn’t working.

* At 11:11 I beg a teacher to help me. She finds me a new mouse. I doesn’t work either.

* At 11:12 the mouse starts working and we all come to the realization that the parent prefect who is scheduled to come in, is not going to show up.

* At 11:13 the other volunteer comes down from her office post and tells us she has never prefected in the cafeteria before.

* At 11:14 I consider taking an Excedrin Migraine. Or five.

* At 11:20 my neighbor/friend/manager stops by after the funeral to check on things and sees that all hell has broken loose.

* At 11:30 my neighbor/friend/manager returns from running home and changing her clothes. Then she jumps in and starts serving the kids. You know? While I work the computer…as planned.

And would you believe that at the end of the day she actually said that she feels comfortable taking a day off now? Clearly, she dipped into my pleurisy pills.

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