Tell the worm to move over

Mood: quiet, yes, but mildy annoyed.  Call me a bad mom. WHAT-EVAH.

You know, my day started off well enough.  I got to shower uninterrupted.  Got everyone to where they needed to be on time.  Made it to have breakfast with a friend, and not only was I able to have a conversation but Audrey was as good as she can be.  So far, so good.

I picked up Mr W at lunchtime (more on that later) which is proving to be kinda fun, in spite of the fact that it forces me to break up my day in a weird way (half-hour lunches, I mean, what's the point?  I skip mine at work whenever I can get away with it-)

Afterschool, there was a running club race for Ben at a nearby school.  I wasn't planning on letting him run, I mean, he's hardly recovered, but it was our last race of the year.  I made him promise to walk if he started coughing and not overdo it, even while my overactive Momvision imagined him coughing up a lung partway through it.  There was quite the crowd, and luckily there was a playground in the midst of it all.  Nolan, bless him, took Audrey-duty. You'd think the ear infection would slow her down, but no, she was all over the place.  I was feeling the love, but then he says: "You know I expect to be paid for this, don't you?"  I didn't even have to answer, I gave him my best Clint Eastwood eye-narrowing maneuver as he said "I'm kidding, I'm kidding."  While we were there, Ryan was really clingy, moreso  than usual, and I bumped his forehead.  "Hey, are you hot from running around?"  "I want to sit in the shade."  "Okay."  He felt normal to me later, so I just chalked it up to the nice warm afternoon.  The other three were bored, and Audrey kept me busy, so we left as soon as Ben finished.  He didn't cough up a lung, but he was very tired, so we came straight home.  So far, so good.

I'm reading when the little guy crawls into my lap.  "Oh, man, dude, you're hot."  I get the thermometer out--and....

no way, No Way, NO WAY!!!!

No freakin' way. If this was someone else, I might shake my head in understanding, and be wondering "wtf?  are they living petri dishes?  doesn't she wash anything?"

But noooo, no, it's me.  And the boy topped out at 102 before I snapped out of denial.  I knew it was a problem when he fell asleep on the way to pick up his Dad from work.  I could see his little flushed cheeks in the rearview mirror. 

I'm about to burst into tears, a reflex reaction borne of pms and frustration, when I hear "Enter Sandman" (that Metallica song I mentioned a couple of entries ago) come on the radio, and I have to chuckle at the irony.  I haven't heard that song in a while, and now all of a sudden I mention it and here it is? 

Anyway.  I medicated the little guy when we got home, and he cooled off before bedtime.  Of course, though, selfish girl that I am, I take the time to rant to Mr W, that I did have plans tomorrow, that I've looked forward to all (insert colorful word here) week, and now I can't do it.  I said: "I had plaaaans.  I've been looking forward to this girly excursion aaalll week, and I'm tired of playing nurse to all of you and chauffeur and cook and yeah, I'll get a break, at work this weekend, and and blah, blah..."  Yup.  Snapped like a twig, no tears, just a lot of telenovela-style hand waving and eyerolling (I save the chest-beating for real serious occasions).  Totally unreasonable of me, yes, and amazingly fabulous of my husband that he didn't shake me until my silly head fell off.  I'll take some cheese with my whine, thank you.

What can I say?  He rocks.  He puts up with me with good humor, always when it counts.  And this picking him up for lunch thing?  Dig it.  Yesterday, it was all I could do to not plant one on him like I meant it as he was getting out of the car (Ben and Audrey were with us, afterall.)  To lift an idea I got from a book I recently read, um, he gets to me in a "hearts and flowers kind of way" as well as a "phwoar, what's-in-his-trousers sort of way".  ('Phwoar', my new favorite word, so perfect of that sentiment, and better than my friend Janna's "unh" grunt, lol.  Not a Hallmark kind of word, but it gets the job done.) 

So nice to have both aspects of attraction present in the relationship, waxing and waning, sometimes dead on equal, keeping things interesting.  At the very least, it keeps me from killing him for not taking out the trash.

PMS, what fun.  My mind is on sex and chocolate, not in any particular order.  I'm about to start mainlining that wicked Ghiradelli caramel/chocolate bar that's been sitting on my counter all week in case of emergency.  (Man, I need to have one of the kids eat that or something).  And I'll have to start taking a cold shower, ahem, before I pick up Mr W for lunch. 

I'd say "poor guy, a leg brace, and a ranting, oversexed wife", but somehow I don't think that the latter thing is something that would invoke anyone to feel pity for him, would it?

Well.  Guess I better look into getting Ryan checked out tomorrow, and stopping by Costco for the industrial size bottle of tequila and marg mix so I don't have to rely on Jane for my medicine ;P .

I'm gonna ask the worm to move over, cuz I'm moving into the bottle too.  If one more person gets sick in this house.....oh wait.  That's me.  I'll pass on 'the plague', and take 'female hormonal disorders' for a daily double, Alex.

And the bottle I'll really be reaching for is my water bottle, because the sex-chocolate-tequila option is only good if you're in Tijuana, I think.

Pero yo hablo espanol.  Hmm.  Vamos?