My house, the infirmary, where whiny, coughy children lay about with naught to do, but torment their mother with complaints ranging from the lack of decent curtains in the house to the state of the world economy.
Yes. Life is tough.
We got home late last night from a family birthday celebration, wherein there were many cakes and pies to consume. I should have brought home another slice of key lime pie, is what I say to myself this morning.
Three of the four kids napped yesterday so staying up late wasn't the end of the world. Except, whoops! I forgot. They're sick. They woke up late and angry this morning.
Angry that I require socks with boots (oh, the feet in boots without socks!) because the bedroom the night before was filled with the humid scent of smelly, smelly toes, thanks to the vaporizer puffing out steam in cheerful fashion, and the boy who had insisted on no socks with his boots.
Angry that I let them sleep in because they had stayed up chatting in bed until 10 pm, and oh no! now my girl would miss "centers" at school. Reasoning with a 7 year old recently diagnosed with an ear infection at eight in the morning is not high on my list of things I like to do.
The weather report says sunny skies and mid-50's today and though at the moment it's gray, my-oh-my I hope it's true, because I need to throw open the doors and windows and air out this germ infested abode and let some light shine in, withering the little complaints that are creeping around into small manageable crusts that I can sweep up and throw away.