Child one is still home. Did not listen to aging parent on Wednesday, got "overheated" (my generation's word from our parents) and had low grade fever this morning during normal prep time for school. Well enough to control remote, aggravate and whine incessantly.
Child two is home as well. High fever on the thermometer but not on the Mom hand. Well enough to fight, whine and want to swing and ride a scooter (oh no she did not).
Mom is holding up. Working at home full time, trying to keep the house clean (HA), doing laundry, cooking meals, being a short order cook to fever ridden children, answering phones, running errands all leaves no time for utter compassion or nice behavior towards children and spouse. I wish I could be that Mom who has on heels, a large petticoated skirt with tidy sleeves and pearls, hair pulled back, who is in the kitchen with an apron on (speaking of apron Kerry you da bomb. Can I give the link for the aprons?) cooking chicken noodle soup from scratch (hey I do make CNS from scratch) and is lovingly attending to my sick babe as she lays all neatly covered in her bed, hair pulled back by a satin ribbon. But no. Instead I am a sweat panted, sneaker footed, hopefully bathed within the past 48, opening cans of Sam's choice CNS and serving it in a plastic bowl to kids who are trashing the living room with a million tissues, soda cans, snack bowls, papers, crayons, glue scissors, a zillion little pieces of cut paper, dressed in mismatched tops and bottoms with unbrushed hair. Forget Barbie. June Cleaver is messing with my head.
"Mom I want pickles for breakfast." Pickles. What I ask is wrong with my child? Last week was rice. How about olives and corn? What happened to cereal, toast, grits? Now it's "I want a salami sandwich." Now I must say with utter pride that my children are not picky eaters. Sarah is pickier than Katie but all in all they eat most everything. No spinach, asparagus, or baked fish. They are just crazy. Katie ate capers with her meal last night. She will suck the garlic off garlic bread. And she loves "snushi". I am not complaining. These kids get mostly balanced meals daily and they eat without argument, for the most part. But the weird requests sometimes baffle me. Hey I've had my share of cold pizza or spaghetti for breakfast but I do believe that was due to economics and something that occurred the night before. But pickles for breakfast? Oh no.
So tomorrow, the alarm will go off. I will drag out of bed, brush my teeth and check on the girls to see who has fever and who will be going to school, with the Mom hand and then the thermometer. Think Katie may be home due to the 24 hour fever rule and her possible being contagious with the flu. Better make sure we have enough pickles on hand.