When It Rains...
it either rains really really hard or for a long time.
Around here, it's been raining hard for a long time. Or, raining hard, then letting up for a few minutes, then raining some more.
It started with my Old Man getting the stomach flu on Halloween. And Halloween happening to be on a Sunday. Now I know why my Old Man is prone to saying "Damn, I hate Sundays." I sort of thought it was just a teacher thing. He hates Sundays like I hate Sundays - it's a school night, and we have to work to prepare for the week ahead. But the fact is that my Old Man does both the grocery shopping and 90-100% of the laundry on Sundays. And last Sunday, with my man laid up, I did the grocery shopping. (Do you know what it's like to do the grocery shopping for a family of four when the last time you did the grocery shopping was ten years ago, in the pre-kid days, approximately seven store-floorplan rearrangements ago? It's like running a 5K through a giant maze stoned out of your mind on benadryl.) And I did the laundry. OK, I did half the laundry. Poorly. And I got the kids ready for Halloween and took them trick-or-treating. Which was fun and the highlight of my day, but exhausting. Especially since Roo the Lion got tired after an hour and needed to be carried the remaining hour, carrying which involved a lot of putting down and picking up because of course she also wanted to keep trick-or-treating. And of course, we had to hustle to keep up with O., dressed up as Rodrick from Diary of a Wimpy Kid and booking ahead with a gang of neighborhood youth. Roo was an adorable lion, but that made all the picking up and putting down and carrying no less exhausting.
(Break for gratuitous Halloween picture.)
So, after the Halloween Sunday from Hell, I appreciated my dear Old Man in a whole new way, the poor nauseated fellow.
Then, just as my Old Man was getting back on his feet, O. came down with the stomach flu, reminding us that he has not yet learned to aim when he pukes. He only puked twice, but ended up hitting all of his bedding, as well as the futon cover and quilt from the living room. More laundry.
Then, Friday night, just as I started to get beyond the paranoia of interpreting every stomach twinge as my turn in the bed of nausea, I began to feel really wiped out. I went to bed at 9 PM, slept like a rock all night, and when I woke up breakfast smelled terrible and I didn't feel so hot. I'll spare you the rest of the details of my restful weekend.
But enough about my week. How are you?
Around here, it's been raining hard for a long time. Or, raining hard, then letting up for a few minutes, then raining some more.
It started with my Old Man getting the stomach flu on Halloween. And Halloween happening to be on a Sunday. Now I know why my Old Man is prone to saying "Damn, I hate Sundays." I sort of thought it was just a teacher thing. He hates Sundays like I hate Sundays - it's a school night, and we have to work to prepare for the week ahead. But the fact is that my Old Man does both the grocery shopping and 90-100% of the laundry on Sundays. And last Sunday, with my man laid up, I did the grocery shopping. (Do you know what it's like to do the grocery shopping for a family of four when the last time you did the grocery shopping was ten years ago, in the pre-kid days, approximately seven store-floorplan rearrangements ago? It's like running a 5K through a giant maze stoned out of your mind on benadryl.) And I did the laundry. OK, I did half the laundry. Poorly. And I got the kids ready for Halloween and took them trick-or-treating. Which was fun and the highlight of my day, but exhausting. Especially since Roo the Lion got tired after an hour and needed to be carried the remaining hour, carrying which involved a lot of putting down and picking up because of course she also wanted to keep trick-or-treating. And of course, we had to hustle to keep up with O., dressed up as Rodrick from Diary of a Wimpy Kid and booking ahead with a gang of neighborhood youth. Roo was an adorable lion, but that made all the picking up and putting down and carrying no less exhausting.
(Break for gratuitous Halloween picture.)
So, after the Halloween Sunday from Hell, I appreciated my dear Old Man in a whole new way, the poor nauseated fellow.
Then, just as my Old Man was getting back on his feet, O. came down with the stomach flu, reminding us that he has not yet learned to aim when he pukes. He only puked twice, but ended up hitting all of his bedding, as well as the futon cover and quilt from the living room. More laundry.
Then, Friday night, just as I started to get beyond the paranoia of interpreting every stomach twinge as my turn in the bed of nausea, I began to feel really wiped out. I went to bed at 9 PM, slept like a rock all night, and when I woke up breakfast smelled terrible and I didn't feel so hot. I'll spare you the rest of the details of my restful weekend.
But enough about my week. How are you?
posted by E. | 7:52 PM
|
4 comments
