Today, I write you from my death bed. Ok, not really. I just feel half past dead and I should probably be in bed. Close enough, right? Meh.
If that wasn't enough, the baby is sick too. High temp. Endless fountain of ooey gooey snot. The works. Fun times.
Do not envy me. Your time will come soon enough. Then, you too can curse the days of feeling like the walking dead.
Notice how I made mention I wasn't in bed? Ya. Not really possible with 3 kids. Right? Wouldn't it be great if we could call in a relief mother? A replacement? A sub, if you will? A sub. That sounds great. A highly trained, at your disposal, mom type that picks up where you passed out from exhaustion, sickness, or just mental unwell. Hey, while we are pipe dreaming, one that will follow our detailed notes of rediculous demands (like "Johnny will only eat his broccoli drenched in ranch on the purple plate with his giraffe fork."). One who will ignore our lack of such attention to the details of our homes (including that ever growing mound of laundry in the corner of the room that may or may not be where Whiskers disappeared to a week ago). One who will take care of it all without question or threat to call the authorties. Like a Mom-mini-me, only better. Ahhh... Where is 1-800-sub-a-mom when you need it?
Wait. Did I say "only better?" Screw that! This lot would off me and make her their "real mom" like that!
Oh ya. I'm sick. AND, I just wasted a surge of energy on a pipe dream. Again. Oh well. Laundry can wait another day. So can Fluffy. Hopefully.
Sick days can suck it.