A Week of My Life

Saturday, October 25 . . . .

Oh, this is so exciting. Stuart got a new job. But, there's so much to do! I have a Sunday school party tonight, and then on Sunday, I have to take Owen to see the new Junie B. Jones play in Little Rock at the Arkansas Children's Theater.

Here we are driving back from the play, and I'm not feeling very well. Why am I feeling dizzy and sick? Oh, this is bad. Stuart, I think I am going to throw up. Okay, I was right. I think I need to lay down . . . by the toilet. A few hours later, I think I need some meds. Oh, I don't feel well.

"Can you help me?" says Stuart. Why? I'm throwing up right now, I reply (in a not-so-nice voice). "Hudson just threw up all over his bed!" I stumble to clean up his mess, while I'm still a mess, and I stagger around in a drug-induced state brought on by phenergan.

The next day, Hudson feels better, but Stuart comes home from work with the stomach flu. I'm not nice enough to help him very much, but I do all the childcare by myself, so he can sleep. Quiet kids. Your father is sick! Yes, I think he got the throw up. I don't know where it comes from. No, it doesn't crawl in your mouth when you sleep.

Finally, maybe a good day to work on the 57 essays that I haven't gotten to yet. I think I've done 18 loads of laundry! Oh, I still have to fill out the 14 page form for the MLS listing for the house, and I have to take digital pictures of every room and make them look like my home is out of Pottery Barn catalog while disguising the toys, exersaucer, and vomit-protection towels all over the floor. I think I'll type a flyer to put in the info-tube. Oh no, Owen are you okay. Are you getting sick too? Yep.

After two days with Owen home from school, I'm only 1/3 into the stack of essays that are supposed to be returned in the next 24 hours. I jot off a sad-but-true email to my class, stating that I will be delayed in returning their magnificent essays. I'm back to emptying out the vomit bucket (for the tenth time).

Ah, finally it's Friday. Owen returns to school, and his broken capillaries from projectile vomiting don't look too bad. I think I can finally get some more grading done today. Oh, I forgot. It's Halloween, and I promised Hudson I would go to his "Fantasy Ball" at his pre-K, then I have to get all the kids ready and dressed as a ladybug, pirate, and army man to attend the church festival. So much for grading again!

It's Saturday, and we get to visit with Lewie Clark as he made a visit while he was in town from Chicago (was I coherent, Lewie?). After our nice break with Lewie, I found my handy-dandy "to do" list, and I worked Stuart to death as we tried to get the house ready to show. Mulch, mow, edge; we need more mulch. The "for sale" sign went out, and we tried to stuff all the "clutter" and extra belongings into our attic to achieve a "spacious and magazine-ish" feel. I don't know if it worked, and our attic flooring might collapse from the weight of it all.

Ah, another Sunday. Oh no, I've got a baby shower, and I don't know where I put the gift, and I forgot to iron the tablecloths for it. Stuart, watch the kids. Gotta run.

Finally, I sit down to eat a relaxing dinner (of 4 day old spaghetti and Halloween candy). The phone rings. What? Twenty minutes? They want to see the house? Kids, start cleaning! Pick up your toys! Stuart, I knew we needed to clean your closet . . . .