A whirlwind. An 18-wheeler. A compact car.
These are all things I feel like I have been hit by in the last three days.
The whirlwind was Terzo's birthday party and was actually a good experience, not a bad one. Less like these destructive tornadoes and more like the twister in The Wizard of Oz that results in being surrounded by munchkins and just over an hour and a half of surrealism. I am always sorry to see the kids' birthday parties end because I have such a fun time planning them and watching them enjoy themselves. What a gift! Saturday, however, I felt myself fading quickly, and wrote it off to just being tired and went to bed early.
Enter Sunday morning and the 18-wheeler. I was so sick, I couldn't lift my head off of the pillow when Frodo tried to wake me for church. I slept until 11am then summoned up enough energy to slink downstairs, make some tea, take some medicine, then curl up on the sofa and go back to sleep.
This morning was an improvement. I only felt like I had been hit by a compact car (I can't decide whether it was a Chevy Nova or an AMC Gremlin, but it was defenitely an ugly compact car). Needless to say, I called a sick day today. I am still trying to figure out if I can count lessons in nursing and life skills. Primo dressed and took over potty training of Quarto, Secondo and Terzo got breakfast for everyone (all over the floor, but eventually everyone ate... not off the floor), and everyone very considerately kept thier death matches over toys and videos out of the living room where I was trying to nap.
Tomorrow I am hoping for a Mr. Bean mini-car day at worst. (Or maybe his nemesis car, it only has three wheels. Three wheels would feel less crummy than four, right?) As long as I can function to cover the three R's and get the kids to their respective Cub Scout and Keepers at Home meetings, I'll consider it a good day and count my blessings.