This is what happens when Mom gets knocked down by a killer sore throat and a fever of 103.
I started feeling horrible yesterday afternoon, and by 5:00 that progressed to feeling like I was trapped right between 90-years-old and death. So I let the kids watch Cars 2 twice in a row while I tried to rest a little on the couch. I woke up to find Matthew and Leah in nothing but underwear, standing on top of the kitchen table, splashing around in root beer (we'd gone through the drive-thru on the way home from swimming lessons because I knew I wasn't up for making dinner). I didn't clean it up.
This morning, with fever still clocking in at 103, I dragged myself out of the house to drop Michael off at preschool and then turned on the Disney Channel for Matthew and Leah and crashed on the couch. One time I woke up to find them sitting in my bed squeezing out a tube of toothpaste. Later I woke up to find they had dumped out a box of cereal and were stuffing golden grahams into the vents on my fireplace, which they had turned on. And after that I woke up to find Matthew had pulled a chair into my bathroom and was making good use of my mascara brush. (He looked like he was auditioning for a job at a cheap cabaret). The rest of the time I tried to sleep while Leah sat on my head.
Later, after the tenth time I found my toddlers splashing things in the toilet, I threw them in the bathtub. Then I left for a few minutes to help Michael with something (I could hear them laughing so I knew they were okay). What I should have realized is that two laughing toddlers in a bathtub is not the kind of okay I was hoping for - they used their cups to completely flood my bathroom from tub to closet. Even my bedroom carpet is wet.
That's the terrible thing about being a mom - when you are sick you still have to be a mom. Today that meant wiping bottoms as needed and running through the drive-thru (again) on the way home from picking Michael up from preschool. Although I did make soup-from-a-package for dinner. Really, that's it. That's all I was good for. I keep wishing for David to come home, but he got home at, oh, midnight, last night? I don't know. I was asleep at the time. He says tonight he will be late but hopefully not super late. By that he means anything before 2 a.m.
Hopefully I'm not dead by then.