I just need about 65 naps. In a row. That is all.

Hello, we’re healthy! And very very worn out. Also inundated with movies I requested from the library, which all happened to turn up on the Hold Shelf at once and have to go back within a week. So you understand that I now have to spend a while holed up on the couch. (Oh, the sentence fragments! I think they’re meant to show how worn out and tired I am. Or how lazy I am. Or how fragmented my brain is at present. Maybe.)

Do you ever find yourself staring into your closet at one unpaired shoe, thinking, I remember that SOMETHING happened to that shoe’s match, so I threw it away. But what was it that happened? Did it get peed in? Thrown up on? I’m sure it will come to me, if I just think long enough…

And then you realize, hello, you actually do not want to remember. There’s probably a reason you blocked that memory in the first place.

Or how about this: Do you ever find yourself, garden hose in hand, staring at a splattering of little kid throw-up (I swear, I thought we were done with that!) in the backyard, hesitating because you know better than to wash down concrete in the middle of a draught? Except—does that rule even apply to washing away vomit?

And then you wash the concrete anyway, but feel really guilty about using the water.

Anyone? Because those were the highlights of my day. Or maybe not “highlights” so much as “parts I haven’t yet managed to forget.” Sigh.

Today I was going to Organize Stuff. Despite the coughing and congestion, I was going to put away a bunch of things that have been tormenting me around the house. Two laundry baskets full of swaddling blankets that we haven’t used in months, for example.

That did not happen.

Instead, I discovered that I had zero swiffer thingies to sweep with; zero storage bins to put stuff in; and one vomiting three-year-old. End of organizational attempts for today!

On the plus side (?), I did eat an entire bag of Trader Joe’s dark chocolate-covered pretzel slims (they’re pretzel-shaped dark chocolates with a little bit of crunch and salt, but without much of the pesky pretzel part), courtesy of my mother. I love when my mother is eating healthy. She still notices the good sugar foods at the grocery store, she just brings them to me instead of eating them herself. And I will eat anything. (Um, that is a flat-out lie. But if it’s dipped in chocolate, there’s like a 95% chance I will go for it.)

Ah, well. Tomorrow is very likely to be another day. Maybe even a day with less, you know, ick. Please.

I think I may have mentioned—once or twice—how (not) fond I am of the notion of Daylight Savings Time. Let me assure you that my opinion of the whole clock-changing business is not altered. However, at present I choose not to whine about that because I have something better to whine about: we’re all sick.

Saturday morning we had a gathering of grandparents/aunts and uncles/cousins etc. to celebrate Audrey turning three. It was lovely and delightful and all those things a family gathering ought to be. It was also followed by complete meltdownedness of our immune systems. (A sure sign of a good party, no?) (And yes, meltdownedness is totally a word. I may have just invented it, but that doesn’t make it any less of a word. Or maybe that does make it less of a word. Give me a break, I’m sick.)

By Saturday night we had general malaise and fever; by Sunday morning—well, let’s just say there may have been a fair amount of owing-thray up-ay, if you know what I mean, and now we’re back to fevers and malaise plus coughing all the night long for good measure.

And that’s about all I can say about that, as the words on screen are swimming back and forth before my eyes. I’m going to try to sleep, which will be difficult given that one or more small children will find it necessary to rest their head on my shoulder/arm/elbow in order to stay asleep. Awesome.

To recap: Take your vitamin C. The end.

As I mentioned, today was Audrey’s birthday. And—unless I’ve forgotten something—we had a great day. The kids were all up super-early (I guess that part wasn’t great, now that I think about it), mostly because Abigail and Owen wanted to give Audrey the presents they’d made for her. Abigail had beaded a necklace, Owen and I made a pilot bunny.

Our pilot bunny, I will tell you right now, is the winnie-the-pooh-iest looking creature I’ve ever seen outside an A.A. Milne book. Well, or it would be, if winnie-the-pooh was partly made of an overstuffed baseball. Because Owen wanted to make the bunny a sort of natural-white-ish color with red stitching. Oh my. Audrey loves it. (So does Owen, truth be told.)

We had a small parade of adoring relatives stop by and/or call to wish Audrey a happy day. She is, for her part, absolutely thrilled to be three, and was delighted to be reminded of it over and over all day long.

And now the kids are all asleep, and I am eating homemade whole-wheat cinnamon rolls. (These are, I understand, a nonsensical creation; why bother with the whole wheat dough if you’re going to basically fill it with brown sugar? But I do. I think maybe I end up with less guilt about the sugar that way.) Hooray for birthdays!

Hmm. It occurs to me that we now have three kids over three. Is there a merit badge for that, do you think?

Audrey will turn three tomorrow. I want to say that I can’t believe it, but really I can. Though it’s kind of crazy to think about how quickly things change—remember when Audrey was a baby? Remember when Owen turned three? Remember when Owen wasn’t three but we faked it because we’re bad people?

(What’s that? No, you don’t remember any of that because I had approximately two readers back then, one of whom was my husband? Well, that’s what this post is for, I guess.)

Ah, the good old days! Actually, I think they’re all good old days, just some of them are good new days. Or good now days. Or something. I’ll work on the lingo, but you follow me, yes? These are always the best days, whichever days we’re in the midst of. Or at least I like to think so.