I was dreaming. I was certain that I was dreaming because I was in the middle of a plot to kidnap and ransom Rachael Ray (and her irritating little chuckle.) Suddenly, and inexplicably, her hands were free from their bindings and her strong right hand was gripping my throat- clenching and squeezing- laughing obnoxiously at me, all the while screaming ingredients to a zesty pesto sauce. I woke up (hungry?) only to realize that something was still tightening around my neck. I barked out a raw, painful cough and groaned. Only a week ago I had smugly chirped that no one in our household had been sick all winter, but alas, a cold has snuck up on me in the thick of night and drop kicked me like a dark, silent ninja.
Luckily, Nick was home today to help me tag team two very energetic toddlers. When nap time rolled around I popped two cold pills and did a face dive into my pillow. For three and a half hours. The world as we know it could have literally ended during that nap, and I would have slept through the apocalypse. My Bad-Mom-O'Meter registered a strong moderate when I tossed a frozen supper into the microwave and retreated to the hospital bed (a.k.a our brown leather couch...I made the kids play "hospital.") My day passed in a fevered fog without any muffins being baked, without any clothes being folded, without any dishes being washed. The dog had to entertain himself (I'll pick up the chewed up cardboard outside tomorrow, I promise.) My husband had to entertain himself also (an afternoon well spent under our truck in the garage.) Everyone managed quite well without Super Mom and my Bad-Mom-O'Meter even stopped beeping...because I took the batteries out to fix the TV remote. Here's to a healthier tomorrow!