See what I get for being smug? A couple of non consecutive hours of sleep, mountains of laundry, the desperate need for steam cleaning carpets, and two puking kids.
If the flu hasn’t hit your family yet, don’t even think anything. I don’t think I said anything out loud. But fate has rewarded my thoughts with a general sourness in the air along with soiled toys. Why can’t the kids ever keep their bedrooms clean? The vomit running down the ladder would have been much easier to clean up if there weren’t so many toy casualties underneath. I’m afraid to walk into Gwen’s room to see the damage I missed at 2:00 am.
And I’m this close to separating the bunk beds again. So what if two beds take up the entire room? They don’t play in there anyway. It’s a toy minefield with strategically placed booby traps that spill out into the hall. Every night as I pick my way through the hall after turning off Gwen’s light, I always hope there’s no fire or anything in the night. The kids would never make it out alive! Of course there is a clear shot to the stairs from our bedroom.
The only thing stopping me from separating the beds is Heath. He’s home “sick” today because of his rib. Remember last spring when my mom breathed the plague into my lungs after I tried to die in her arms? And Heath got the cold from hell? And the coughing dislocated his rib? Remember that? Well it never completely healed and he reaggravated it playing basketball.
He went to the doctor yesterday and found out it has a name. Costochondritis. It sounds made up to me too. Nevertheless it’s a real thing. Rest and Ibuprofen pills the size of a baby’s arm are prescribed. So he’s home today and threatening death if he get the stomach bug that the kids got. He can hardly laugh without his rib hurting, can you imagine what the wrenching inside out turning of vomiting up his toes would do to him?
Well, I best be off to do laundry. All day laundry! Then sleep until . . . well, I’ve been piquant enough for one post. You get what I mean!