I think today is a lost cause.

It started around 4:00 this morning.  I’d just finished nursing the baby and crawled back into bed in time for Elvis to run into our room, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and ready to take on an army.  He proceeded to grab my face and force it to perform unseemly acts of maternal affection.  Sugar Daddy groggily instructed him to let Mommy sleep.  He disregarded that humble request.  I saw my chance and left our bed to go sleep in Elvis’s abandoned bed whilst Elvis pled the case for Play Time with his father.  A few minutes later Elvis had abandoned that plan and returned to his bed to start harrassing me again.  I eventually swiped a pillow and repaired to the master bathroom, where I locked the door and fell asleep on the floor.  I don’t know what Elvis did, but for about forty-five minutes it wasn’t my problem.

At 5:50 a.m. I left the peace and safety of the bathroom to find an empty my-side-of-the-bed, which I happily crawled into, just in time for the baby to start crying again.  I considered letting her cry because I really was exhausted, but I could hear Elvis stirring in the other room, so I opted to go nurse the baby in the recliner in her room, hoping she would fall back asleep, which she did.  When I returned to our bedroom, Elvis was asleep on my side of the bed, so I went back to the boys’ room and crawled into his bed (again), just in time to hear Mister Bubby stirring in the top bunk.  Two minutes later MB jumped down to the floor, turned on the light and began enjoying his own Quality Time with Mom.  I demurred, and to his credit, MB decided to go bother someone else.  Shortly after that SD’s alarm went off.

At 7:00 a.m. SD came into the boys’ room, where I was peacefully sleeping, and announced that it was time for me to get up, as he was going to work and wasn’t going to be around to drag me out of my dreamless slumber when it came time to get Princess Zurg ready for school.  “Are you awake?  Are you awake?” he asked, and I said yes, and may even have thrown the covers off just for dramatic effect, or rather, just to get him to leave–and then I promptly fell back asleep.  I figured someone else would be back to disturb me soon.

And at 7:20 a.m. that someone arrived.  It was PZ, announcing that she did not feel well.

“Do you feel too sick to go to school?” I mumbled.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you feel too sick to eat breakfast?”

“I’m not sure.”

I don’t remember what happened next because I think I fell asleep again.  Then I heard MB offering to bring PZ breakfast in bed and PZ following MB downstairs to tell him how to toast her waffle.  I decided that I could not in good conscience let PZ stay home if she was well enough to eat waffles and get them made-to-order.  So I staggered downstairs and rummaged for a thermometer wherewith I could procure data to make a reasonable judgment on her fitness for school, one that did not depend on my ability to see straight or speak English.  It must have been my lucky day, because she had a fever, and I got to go back to bed for an hour or so while she and her brother watched Scooby Doo with the volume much too loud.

The hours between 9:00 and 11:00 a.m. are a blur.  I know that I was awake and I got not a thing accomplished, except I think the children might have eaten breakfast with my assistance.  I can’t swear to that.  At 11:20 I informed MB that he needed to get his school on, and he said he was sick, too.  I didn’t believe him, so I told him I had to take his temperature.  He gagged on the oral thermometer.  He asked why I couldn’t use the ear one, and I said the ear one was broken, which it is–or rather, it never has worked correctly.  (Word to the wise:  the American Red Cross optical scan thermometer is a waste of money, unless you are one of those kids who needs to fake a 106 degree fever so you can get out of your math test.)  I told him that he could hold the thermometer under his tongue or in his armpit.  He giggled like a drunken school girl in love when we tried the latter method, at which point he knew he was outwitted and agreed to eat lunch and put his shoes on.

I got MB on the bus, and that is the only schedule I have adhered to today.  The baby (mercifully) slept in, so I have no idea when she’s supposed to take a nap, since she usually takes one now but she’s only been up for two and a half hours, so never mind that.  I don’t know when to serve lunch or what to serve for it, and I don’t know which chores I should be doing and I don’t know if the baby is also sick, or if she’s just being a royal pain in the neck.  I haven’t had a shower.  I think if I took a shower and/or brushed my teeth, I would feel more in control of the situation, but right now I am just treading water in a sewer drain, and I suspect that nutria live here and have become aggressive due to the locals feeding them food inconsistent with their natural diet.  When my husband comes home this evening, I will likely be in a poor mood, and he will say I need to get out more, even though it’s raining again.

Meanwhile, illness has not made PZ less talkative, and there are no signs of Elvis.  I must flee the scene.  Children, adieu.

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