Yes, I’m here. I survived this past busy week. Imagine that. And no children, electronics and very few adults were injured in the process.
I finished two big jobs, all the while putting three meals a day on the table and serving snacks in between, keeping the house clean, laundry done, keeping up with our extracurricular and social commitments, and home schooling the kids, including the energetic three-year old. I even managed to throw a fantastic birthday party for my – now – 11 year old boy, with cake, an organized scavenger hunt, prizes, pizza and all.
It wasn’t the smoothest week – we might not have done as much history work as I would have liked, and the boys couldn’t do their languages because daddy took the computer that has the Rosetta Stone on it with him to Italy - but we managed.
It might also not have been a super fun week, or at least not until we got to Friday – party day. At some point, William complained, “Every day is just the same this week! Wake up, eat breakfast, school, lunch, more school, play with our friends, taekwondo, dinner, clean up, read and go to bed. Always the same, day in and day out! I worked so hard ALL week doing all this, and I’m tired of it!” The rant was a little unjustified if you ask me. “Eh, William,” I said, “it’s Tuesday! It has only been TWO days, AND,” I reminded him, “we spent an entire day this past weekend in Achrafyie at your friends’ house, having loads of fun. PLUS Friday we’re celebrating your brother’s birthday.”
Towards the end of the week, Prof. Husband came home from his trip - still really busy with finishing his book manuscript, but home, and my pay check came in. From there on, we were home free.
Or so I thought.
After the party of Friday I collapsed with a really sore throat and a fever, and the next day a bad cold with all that it entails. Snivel. I to cancel all weekend commitments.
I had a sore throat about a month ago, but it never got really bad. I rested for a day and it went away. This time I’m actually sick; like sick enough to see the house deteriorate around me and not having the energy to do anything about it. There’s a mountain of dirty laundry in the laundry room, and all the rest of our clothes, clean, are piled up on Abraham’s bed, unfolded in a mess. We’re out of most anything, from bread and juice to vegetables and fruit, the boys’ taekwondo belts need new stripes sewed onto them, there are toys and books and CDs everywhere, and don’t even get me started on my grand fall decoration craft plans that are rotting in a bag somewhere. Literally.
Good news is, I don't have a job that I have to finish, so I can just take it easy and take care of myself. Also, the boys are doing a good job helping more around the house. And I think I'm getting better.