Long, long ago, there was a time when Wednesdays were so peaceful. And quiet. Just me, the dogs and over five hours of uninterrupted down time.
Only I'm having a hard time remembering what is was like. That's because its a myth. A fantasy. A pure figment of my imagination.
Why it seems that as soon as humpday rolls around, someone has it in for me.
And not just someone. EVERYONE.
When the kids get sick, its always on Wednesday. My dentist appointments, the only open slot for months is on the very same day. Same for the root canal. Oh, and one cannot forget the Kermit Incident. Yep, Wednesday again.
This week, like all the rest, I had hope. And a to-do list a mile long, just waiting for some quiet time to complete.
I should have known better. The writing was on the wall. Monday night, the Little Stinker came to sleep in our bed. Since he's so damn cute, we let him. An unfortunate decision on our part, considering he decided to throw up on the sheets, the pillows and us at about 2 am. Nothing wakes you up from a sound sleep like that oh-so-lovely smell.
It was downhill from there. He was running a fever yesterday. But yet I still hoped. Maybe it was just a 24-hour bug.
As I picked up my daughter from school yesterday, she was sporting the same greenish hue. And that's when all hope of a day to myself went out the window.
So here I sit, stealing away a few moments to write as my two sick children nap. There will be no errands run, no exercise done, no projects completed. I'll be whipping up a couple of batches of chicken soup instead. With a family as generous as ours, I'm sure we're not done yet.