The dreaded cold

Oh, I'm sick.  I've got a cold.   It's been a while coming, I've had a sore throat for several days, a little bit of a nagging headache and now I'm sneezing and congested and just.... yucky.  It's been kind of a wretched day too - Sam still won't go to religious school, and ended up tagging along to a Tot Shabbat service.  I'm still befuddled at how Julie just participates in these things, I never expect it.  And I'm not USED to it, because I don't know quite what to do with her.  Do I stay next to her all the time?  The other parents seem to stick fairly closely to their kids, but my instinct is to NOT stay within reach all the time.  Because past experience has told me that if my kid is happy without me there, I should encourage that.  Because if I put myself there, most of the time, Jessie or Sam would opt out of participating to sit on my lap, so I tend to let her go and just watch her like a hawk from across the room.  But then I feel guilty, especially when Sam is there, because I don't know if I'm indulging him in being clingy and should be ignoring him and sticking with my two year old.  So I ditch Sam, leaving him under a chair where he's hiding to avoid well meaning people trying to talk to him (seriously - if my son is being totally anti social, avoiding eye contact and snarling at you - just leave him alone.  It's better for everyone that way, I don't condone rudeness, but I'm always wishing people would stop trying so hard to engage him - he warms up so much faster if you pay no attention), and go hover over my toddler.

Went from one synagogue to the next, and went to another toddler service.  This one, Julie cried thru.  Because it's good that they alternate between being miserable - that way I get to shake it up.  She sobbed when she wasn't allowed to open the arc that holds the Torah and insisted that the entire group sing the Bim Bam song.  Twice.  After that, we dropped Jessie off at dance and stopped at the library.  Because, dammit, I need books.  I just do.  So I loaded up, and the thought of the sixteen new books waiting for me in the other room is the only thing getting me thru this.  Then we went to the dollar store, for reasons that I can't remember, and Sam got all stressed out trying to pick out a toy.  Marc got even more aggravated because Sam was taking too long and I was left standing there, in the aisle, with my sobbing six year old who couldn't choose a crappy toy from the long wall full of crappy toys and husband hollering from across the store because he was ready to go.  It wasn't fun.

I hate being sick, I just get crabby.  I'm normally a much nicer person.  But when I'm sick, I kind of hate everyone.

Marc's overtired and not all that cheerful himself.  Actually, he's in a much better mood after having slept for a while this afternoon.  He's got such a killer schedule, 12 and 15 hour days all week long, and I don't blame him for being tired.  Much.  Although I'd like to point out, in true crabby fashion, that when he's working 12 and 15 hour days - so am I.  Only I'm "working" at home, taking care of laundry and dishes and overseeing homework and baths and refereeing the unending brawls that break out between Sam and Jessie or Sam and Julie.  Jessie and Julie rarely fight with each other, but both do a nice job of battling it out with their brother.  Poor Sam.

I just spent the past hour cleaning my living room and dining room.  Kitchen is still in shambles (although Marc is cleaning that) and I'm embarrassed to tell you how much laundry I've got piled up.  So much so, I'm afraid to start, because facing it would be that I'd be starting a project that's going to take hours, and right now, all I want to do it take two benedryl and hide under the covers.  Only... Julie is still up and Jessie needs to get in the shower, and Sarah and Sam are currently building a fort in my room and I can't find the bed.

I hate being sick.