an odd assortment

I’m still sick.

I think it has been six days of feeling Far Less Than Normal.

Kevin had strep throat.

London had strep throat.

The bottles of amoxicillin in the fridge have outnumbered the jugs of milk.

A cacophony of coughing greets my every morning and accompanies me throughout every day.

Sentences are hard to complete and some prerecorded episodes of What Not To Wear are calling my name.

So I give you today – a list.

An odd assortment of true facts that are only related because they all happened here at this house and they are all true.  (Silly me, of course they are true.  I called them facts already – didn’t I?)

1. The kids around here are so sick and out of sorts that they lie down on the slackersack and fall asleep while chaos swirls around them.

(But aren’t they stinkin’ adorable?  Seriously?)

2. I watched Mosely approach the ceiling fan in our living room with a fork in her outstretched hand.

“I’ve gotta get the silly bands from the fan’s light, Momma,” she offered as way of explanation.

“With a fork?” I asked, stared at her and shook my head no.

“I’ll turn the fan off,” she said, adding, “obviously.”

3. Piper begins our meal dressed and as I dish up food for children and turn around I discover her  – undressed at the dinner table, princess gown off, over her head and neatly hung on her chair’s back and she turns back around, completely at ease, dining for the remainder of the meal in her tiny little underwear.

4. I made yeast rolls without the yeast.  Unintentional unleavened bread. The kids said they liked it.  “We’ll be like the Israelites – right?”

5. Our friend Jane appeared at the front door with a cat in her hands.  A cat named d.o.g.  Jane is moving and the cat needs a home.  I don’t even really care for cats.  The kids jumped up and down and said, “Look, Jane is letting us have her cat – how kind!”

6. Magnus escaped from his collar today.  Again.  For the  third or fourth time this week.  Which means the yard looks ghetto again and our neighbor’s kids’ shoes keep appearing on our front steps.  Oh – and it means Otto spends hours a day standing at the window and pointing at Magnus while panting like a dog.

7. The Suburban is still not unpacked from our Christmas drive to Florida and back.  It looks like a rat’s nest in there.  No, a dozen rats’ nests.  Make that two dozen.  It’s gross, I tell you.

8. The kids asked for cotton candy.  I was tired.  I thought it might be easier to say yes.  Four batches of small, gooey cotton candy later, I realized that it was, most assuredly, not easier.  (I am certain that I saw sugary cotton candy tendrils attached to the beams in our kitchen ceiling.)