Hoo boy. Sleep-deprivation seriously messes with a person’s short-term memory. This post is two months old. I honestly thought I had posted it already. Oops.


You know what people forget to mention amidst all the excitement of entering parenthood? Once you become a mom, you don’t get to take a sick day. Ever.

Three weeks ago, Poppet and I simultaneously got sick. (I maintain that she made me sick, because she goes to pre-school and hangs out with snotty kids all day whereas I only teach snotty kids twice a week. If I was more mathematically-minded I would give you percentages and whatnot, but even when not in zombie-mode, my brain cannot do that.)

Now, Poppet is not one to let a mere cold slow her down, so when she plonks herself down on the couch and refuses to move, I know that she’s really not feeling well. Off to the doctor we went – I have seen way too much of the doctor this winter – for a family check-up. Antibiotics all ’round, with a script for Pixie just in case. “Get some rest,” the doctor said, with a knowing smile. (Perhaps the smile was sympathetic; my flu-addled, zombie brain couldn’t really tell.)

“See you soon,” the receptionist said on our way out.

“Not too soon,” I sniffled, juggling Pixie and tissues and Poppet’s plush puppy (aka Ballerina, who also needed to see the doctor).

Ten days later, I was back at the doctor’s rooms, this time with middle ear infection. At least this time, it was just me. The doctor gave me a script for a stronger antibiotic, told me to rest, and handed me a lollipop on my way out.


Talk to me. Seriously. You have no idea how badly I'm craving adult conversation.

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