Caloden

Apparently the post holiday lethargy is not just pure laziness on my part. I am sick. Fuuuuuuuuck. I am queasy, the room routinely spins, I fluctuate between sweating, hot flashes and shivering. My bones feel like they are hollow, my arms are far too heavy for my shoulders, my ankles may very well collapse from the weight of my ass. I can’t parent my three children, the laundry is out of the question, and I hope Devon can learn to change his own diapers before morning. Maybe the children can just graze, free range style, if I pour an entire box of cereal on the coffee table. The dog can clean up any that spills on the floor.

I caught this from one of the ten one-year olsd I watched at the ski mountain yesterday. Was it pouty Wyatt with the 100.5 temperature? Or Romiana who had three days of the runs? Or maybe Tanner and his waterfall of green snot? Whatever the case, there is no way I am venturing out at 6:45 tomorrow morning for more. Free ski passes be damned, I am staying home to contaminate my own brood. That way when I heal, they will all be coming down with it. And then I can spend a week with barfing, fevery kids of my own. Nail me to my cross right now, dammit.