My husband is taking a nap. My little one is supposed to be down for the night, but she's awfully busy in her crib at the moment. My oldest is getting ready to hop in the shower. All three were sick in one way or another today. I could burst with joy at the thought of a silent house, one without sneezing, coughing, fevers, whining and the like.
When people are sick, they seem to take on an alternate personality. My littlest one, who is a very happy baby, is usually playful and sweet and cute, was very whiny and at times violent. What is normally a soft pat on my cheek from her, was a slap full of runny nose goo followed by her dragging her nails across my face. My oldest one has mastered the art of acting completely helpless. And her selective hearing is one for the record books. My husband, well, he's pathetic when he's sick, what can I say (Hi honey!). The kids get it from him. ;)
After going upstairs at least 5 times to encourage (read: threaten) my oldest to get her shower done and stop stalling, she is finally done and in bed for the night. So now I sit and listen to the rain that Fay decided to bring this evening. Over an hour after sitting down to write this, I am finally getting some peace. I can reflect upon... the laundry that didn't get done today, the toys strewn about, the dishes sitting in the sink and a myriad of other tasks that were on the to-do-list. Somehow, I just don't feel that bad about it.
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