I knew I was getting sick on Friday afternoon. My throat was sore and I was just generally achy. Part of me tried to blame it on the stress of the week but I knew better deep down inside. I'd had two students go home sick so I figured that they'd left me a parting gift of some leftover germs. When I finally left school on Friday about 5:30, I basically came home and crashed. No sooner than I'd plopped down on the sofa, Grant pulled out "the tooter" and thought it would be a good idea to get some practice time in. Now, I'm all for practicing but WHY does he need to do it under my direct supervision? I finally had to tell him to give the goose killer a rest for a bit. He was definitely hurt that I didn't want to be lulled into relaxation by his "music." I don't quite remember how the rest of the night went but I remember something about some Robitussin and Tylenol. Saturday was a haze of nothingness. I felt worse but was able to just lounge around. (I just cracked myself up at the thought of lounging around in this house with three kids. It's all relative)!
Anyway, this morning brought a round of fever and crazy children. I felt horrible and just wanted to rest in peace. It seemed that none of the children habitating here agreed, though. Suddenly, things that they can usually do by themselves, they needed my undivided help to do. Ugh. I'm just not sure how I'm supposed to gracefully be sick and still run this house! To top it all off, Dasha is in major crazy mode and went after Annie with a piece of PVC pipe from the playhouse. She ended up hitting her in the mouth but didn't cause any damage beyond some hysterical siren sounding screaming and tears. I can't even begin to address that moment in time right now. I was seriously counting it a blessing that I didn't feel good and didn't have the energy to chase after her and... I don't know what I would have done to her. She ended up spending time in the Randolph Stairwell Penitentiary, though. I don't think she minded, though. (This drama is added atop of her drama last week at school that I might have the nerve to write about one day when I can think about it without having my blood pressure sky rocket)! Heck, I'm beginning to think maybe I should commit some misdemeanor crime and get sentenced to a few days behind bars. Clean sheets, room service, protected from the outside world. Doesn't sound too bad right now. Kind of like a vacation.
I admit that a couple of months ago, I would have gone into a round of "Woe is Me! It's not Fair," after a weekend like this. However, I skipped the song and dance and just went for the ugly thoughts that I managed to keep to myself. I just wanted someone to come hold the fort down and let me stay in my pjs, in bed, with my eyes closed completely (not peeking out continually to see which child was standing over me with some blunt object)! It has been a very long day. Somehow, everything got done and all of the children have been account for, drugged (oh, I mean given yummy vitamins), and put to bed for the night! (Geez. You all know I'm kidding! I can't even give my crew Benadryl. It hypes them up. It really was a vitamin! I don't need to be met at school in the morning by Deputy Dunkin Donuts Dan asking me questions about medications)!
Thankfully, I'm feeling better and I have things organized enough to get everyone out of the house in the morning and get to school before bus duty begins. (Ugh. I hate bus duty weeks). So, that means that I can go to bed and hopefully sleep undisturbed all night long and wake up feeling like that crazy singing princess from Enchanted! (If that girl ever burst into my bedroom singing like that in the morning, I think I'd look for some PVC pipe and start swinging, too)!
On a completely different note, my parents have decided that for my birthday, they want to put "hardwood" floors in my living room and dining room. The carpet was shot when we moved in six years ago! However, my dad is convinced that he's going to put it down himself. (Yes, I hear the hysterical laughter from all that know how my dad operates)! I absolutely love my dad but his attention to detail is, well, non-existent. If anyone reading my crazy story knows of someone who needs to do some community service (like helping lay snap together laminate flooring), would you please let me know? There's absolutely NO way that dad could handle the labor alone even if he wore a cape and tights (ugh, gross). And, I can't ask them to foot the bill for having it professionally installed (beggars can't be choosers) and I can't afford to pay someone myself. I'm just asking to see if anyone would be interested in helping. The only pay that would be involved would be food, drink, and my undying gratitude (and my dad's). And, please don't tell mom and dad that I'm soliciting help here in the public. I don't ever want dad to think I underestimate his abilities but... He thinks I have some magical phone book that I can pull out and just call a couple of guys to come help out. Um. No. I think that phone book must be on the shelf with the "How to Be a Superstar Mom" and "How to Grow a Money Tree" books.
Anyway, I'm heading to bed with a full cup of Nyquil, the alarm set at the highest volume, the baby monitor moved right next to my head and turned all the way up, and the baby gate at the top of the stairs. I figure the gate would keep any prowlers out unless they have little ones of their own and know how the open the darn thing and it will keep all of the intended inhabitants in the upper quadrant of the house!
Good night, all.
(If you know someone who'd be willing to help, you can reach me at swilliamsrandolph@gmail.com).
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