A detour

Today I had planned to to introduce myself with my vaccuum.  I can't even remember the last time I used it, between all of the traveling to and fro.  My sister's Dyson would roll over in its closet if it knew.  I planned to do laundry in my laundry room for the first time since before our Disney trip, unloading the dried towels that have been waiting patiently for 3 weeks in the dryer.  And lest you think that smell is my children's underwear, I have been washing clothes on our trips.  I planned on getting back to a cleaning schedule ...

But life had other plans.  Honey is sick.  He's had a fever now for 2 1/2 days.  He's been a little whiny.  A lot clingy.  And a little burpy.  If he could talk he'd probably tell me that his body hurts, his head is burning up but he can warm up his ice-cold hands and feet, and that his tummy is upset.  But since he can't, we just sit, together, he and I.

When it comes to my children being sick,  I tend to have the "worst-case scenario" imagination.  To deal with it, I just spend every waking moment holding them.  So, Honey has gotten reaquainted with our old Moby friend.  And the video monitor is broadcasting HDTV (Honey D TV) all day/night long.

And me?  I'm covered, head to toe with his germs.  So I expect to be getting this in the next few days.  I'm really okay with that (I think).  As a mom, there's really no way around the snot and tears and slobber falling on you.  So, you just let it happen and know it will all work out okay.

P.S.  Before you vote me as "Mother of the Year" let me just tell you a funny story that happened today. After spending all day holding Honey, placating a demanding and bored C, and trying my best not to go stir crazy, I finally put Honey down to run to relieve my bladder since the big kids were in the kitchen.  Mr. M was getting a snack and Honey was okay with trying to climb a chair.  From the bathroom I heard a crash and Honey's wailing.  So I ran back out as soon as I could and there he was shaking and crying on the floor with Mr. M standing not 1 foot away from him, lamely explaining "I didn't do it. He fell off the chair himself."  Long story short, I launched in a big, long (and loud) lecture telling M that his snack is not is as important as helping up his baby brother (because he was more concerned with eating it then putting it down and picking up the baby off the floor).  In the middle of my yelling at Mr. M from across the room, Miss A came over and said, "Mom, there's someone at the door for you and they've been there the whole time you've been yelling at M."  All I could say was, "I don't care," and kept on with the lecture.  What I didn't understand was that she was still there.  And it wasn't another sales guy, it was a friend who was coming to drop off some bread.  I felt lame.  And still do.  I try not to yell at my kids ... but sometimes I do.  Especially when it involves the baby, blood and tears.  But now it's kind of making me laugh.  I just hope that woman doesn't think that I'm an ogre.