I don't get sick very often. Sure, I catch the colds the girls so thoughtfully carry home from school, but really and truly sick? Nope, not me. The last time I had a fever, Lexi was a baby.
I have strep. Oh, how fun. 102-degree temp, body aching, painful swallowing, giant pink pill strep. Woe is me.
So for those of you who checked here repeatedly and frantically yesterday for Random Thoughts Thursday, well, my mind was certainly random, but be thankful I didn't feel well enough to share it. Today I'm feeling better, but still not 100%. But I wouldn't want to let down my loyal readers (all five of you), so here is what the mind of a not quite 100% mama comes up with for a really-not-so-random, mostly-about-being-sick post.
I slept until 8:00 this morning. Normally I can't sleep past 7:00 (stupid body clock.) And the only reason I woke up then was because my friend called me, assuming that we'd all be up (my children seem to have body clocks that work against me - when there's no school they're up at the crack of dawn, where there is school I have to drag them out of bed.) She felt really bad when she asked me, "Whatcha doin'?" and I answered, "Sleeping."
Breakfast this morning was yogurt. That's it. Anything harder makes my throat hurt.
But I've been drinking practically nonstop the most soothing drink known to man: hot honey lemonade. Ahhhhh...
I told Chris to take the car to work today. Ordinarily Friday is my run around and get things done day, but I'd be surprised if I even got out of my pajamas today.
They're cute pajamas, though, so no worries. Well, at least the pants are. Thanks, Adrie!
The girls are fighting downstairs. Or at least they're screaming at each other. But I'm not shouting at them to work it out nicely like I normally do, and I'm certainly not going to get up from my chair, (as uncomfy as it's becoming on my poor achy body) to do anything about it. If the screaming stops abruptly, maybe I'll just make sure no one died or is bleeding seriously, but other than that, well, they can fend for themselves.
I plan to allow them to watch TV until, in the words of their father, their brains shrivel up to the size of a pea and fall out their ears. They will love me for it, so it's all good.
I also plan to do only slightly less sitting around on my backside today than I did yesterday. I read an entire book yesterday (The Book Thief again, if you must know. Go read it. Seriously.)
When I asked Vicki last night if she could help Daddy tidy up the living room, she said, "Yeah, he needs help, because he's not used to doing everything that you do all the time. And he doesn't do it as well as you. But he tries hard, huh?"
I will say, though, that he was a saint yesterday, coming home from work after being there only an hour when I called to tell him I was dying. The man NEVER takes days off work, so it meant a lot to me. And I needed him here. By the time I got home from the doctor's office and the pharmacy, it was all I could do to walk up the stairs and crawl into bed. What a guy.
Okay, enough of the pity party. I hate whiny blog posts. In honor of my lazy bum-ness, here is a link to a humor column in our local paper. I want you all to read it, figure out your hobo name, and then report back to me. To get the ball rolling, I will now introduce my hobo self:
Pleased to meet you. I'm Boxcar Four-Flush.