Too Crazy A Day To Be Sick

Sometimes I go for days, running along in the same well-worn grooves.

Not that I'm complaining, as predicatability can be a good thing.

But for me, it always seems that long stretches like this are punctuated by a really crazy day to sort of make up for all the ordinary ones.

You know, those days that seem like a condensed weeks worth of stuff all crammed into one 24 hour period?

I was ready to send out an S.O.S. on Thursday morning:

Flying solo with kids for 4 days (stop) Sick with a cold (stop) Toddler feverish (stop) Send reinforcements (Stop)

Kidding on the reinforcements part, because we're actually begginning to feel much better now.

But I should have known things were heading south Monday morning.

That was the day Jeff reminded me about his conference this weekend, and the same day that I first woke up with a bad cold and a lovely man-voice (which was so hoarse my own mom didn't recognize me on the phone that day).

Wednesday night, I asked if he could cancel the trip. I just wasn't ready for him to leave for his long-weekend school conference the next day. Especially being sick myself and with Judah feeling a tad feverish.

But Jeff couldn't exactly get out of this one, as it cost his school a pretty penny.

Yeah, I felt sorry for him, 'having' to fly by plane to get to this thing and then 'having' to stay in a Hyatt hotel. As if that weren't enough, the poor guy also 'has' to eat out at nice restaurants every day while he's there, and then spend his free time shoping among throngs of people. Poor thing.

In spite of being crazy jealous about his paid weekend away, we've coped quite well.

Our older son Jericho has been a huge help since dad's been gone. Getting sippy cups of juice for little brother, making toast and other easy-to-prepare foods for himself and his brother, and even helping with Judah's bathtime yesterday evening.

Of course, being able to call and talk to daddy has helped, too, because little Judah is just beside himself without his daddy here. Especially since learning that daddy got to go on an "airpane" AND a "buth", he has not stopped hounding me about where his daddy is. Until we call and let him talk to him.

I was still feeling pretty rough last night, and was looking forward to sleeping in and lounging around in my jammies all morning long.

However, our new neighbors in the house next door were up-and-at-'em at 7 am, clamouring around in their backyard (I think getting it set up for a birthday party or something) with our loyal watchdog Raisin barking up a storm at them through the fence.

Needless to say, I was wide awake hours before I wanted to be, and so because the kids can sleep through anything, I came out to enjoy the relative peace and solitude of my kitchen in the early morning sunshine.

I had just sat down with a hot cup of tea, when I saw this

Apparently the ants in the neighborhood were all roused from their winter lodgings by our brief streak of warm weather, thought it was spring, and decided to get to work building themselves an anthill...inside my kitchen!

One inch from the outside!

Either they overshot their tunnel digging, or they were enticed in by the ready supply of crumbs left on the floor since mom's been sick.

Which means there is a crack that I will have to locate and patch up to prevent the summer onslaught from that same point of entry. Oy.

In trying to clean all that up, I woke up the boys.

So everyone was up by 7:45, and we started our Saturday much earlier than I had hoped.

But Judah was still very tired, and after he ate a little, and watched Charlotte's Web, was ready to go back down for a nap about 9:30.

I had just dozed off again myself when my sister-in-law called around 10.

In the middle of the call, there was suddenly a knock on my front door. I peeked out the peephole, and saw her standing on the other side of the door with her daughter, cell phone in hand (like she's 'surprised' me before), and I threw open the door and said, "You dawg!"

Except that it wasn't her at all, but a couple of women from a local church that goes door to door passing out literature. The woman was just putting her cell phone away, and looked rather stunned by my outburst.

"I'm sooooo sorry." I'm sure the poor soul thought I was certifiably insane.

After making feeble apologies, I closed the door.

Meanwhile, my sister-in-law is still on the phone, and so I fill her in on what just happened and we get a good laugh out of it.

But before that call ended, there was another knock on the door. This time a salesman.

I didn't bother to answer that one.

And that was just the beginning of my day!

It all seemed so simple that morning, when the only actual plan we had for the day was to take Jericho to his Awana Games practice at 2 this afternoon!

Hopelessly wide-awake, I sat down at my computer for a bit while Judah was still napping.

That lasted maybe a half hour, but with the boys snacking and some VeggieTales, I was able to finish a few things.

Then at noon, I get a call asking if Jericho was going to be at the church for Bible Quiz practice at noon.

The practice I knew nothing about, because Jericho hadn't bothered to tell me he'd even made the team!

It was ten til noon, and still in our PJ's, we had to kick it into high gear, and I got him to the church a little late.

I thought it would be nice to take Judah and go to the bookstore to kill the next hour or two, and as I was pulling out of my church parking lot, I saw a 'suspicious' car parked along the road across the street from our church, and thought at first that what I was witnessing was graffiti tagging-in-progress. In broad daylight.

It caused me to pause momentarily and assess things.

The driver's side door suddenly popped open, and a woman hopped out, steadied herself, and leaving the driver's side door open, and sort of stumbled around to the passenger side, balancing herself on the car.

The passenger, a guy who had apparently been struggling to get out of his door (what I had mistaken for graffiti-in-progress), tossed a can against the stucco wall they were parked beside, which sloshed all over the wall, then staggered around to the driver's side, and hopped in. The woman was already inside, having lit a cigarette, which for some reason she was holding out the sunroof.

I pulled out behind them, following discreetly at a distance, and glanced down at the can he'd tossed out. A beer can. At 12:30 in the afternoon. Hence their staggering.

My hackles rose. (Insert a Marge Simpson "Grrrrrr")

Their recklessness and irresponsibility was going to endanger countless other people's lives!

And I say this from the perspective of one who had friends in high school that were killed as a result of the fatal combination of drinking and driving. That was so SADD, and made a lasting impression on my life. Then, a few years ago, my cousin Rachelle, a college kid with a bright future ahead of her, was killed by a drunk driver. That makes me MADD!

So, good citizen Becky was on the job. I followed this possibly inebriated couple as I dialed 911 and gave all the particulars.

They immediately dispatched a unit that was nearby. Half an hour later, I was asked to drive past their location and ID the driver (while on the phone with one of the deputies). It was him alright. And he was already in handcuffs.

With that much excitement before 1 pm, I thought perhaps we should just play things safe, and head straight home from Jericho's practice!

So far, so good.