I'm sick. Or should I say, I'm still sick. I was sick all weekend. I'm pretty sure I have the flu. And while I would have liked to have taken some NyQuil and passed out until I felt better, I didn't have that luxury. Because to leave the children unattended is to ask for the fires of hell to rain down upon my head.
Klea could tell that I wasn't well and so just wanted to lie with me. All day. Under my arm. Across my belly. All day. Just touching me. It got old quick. Because all I wanted was enough space to breathe without having to inhale dander, hair or the essence of kibble.
Ginger took it as her opportunity to bark. at. everything. I could have strangled her. Because the migraine I had going was threatening to take me to the edge of my sanity. And her high-pitched yap was going to kick me over the edge. I found myself yelling at her incessantly and threatening to put her in a kennel until I felt better.
Wilbur. God love him. Because since he's discovered that I am the source of all things good in his life, has begun to chirp for me whenever he hears my voice or senses my presence. And so he chirped. And chirped! And Chirped!! AND CHIRPED!!! Until I finally put him in his ball knowing that Ginger would take him for a spin (thusly, fixing two problems with one solution).
Do I feel like a bad mom? No. Not at all. Because a bad mom would have locked herself in a dark room only emerging to eat if inclined. I, on the other hand, maintained their schedule, kept them groomed, cleaned Wilbur's cage (he was being spun around by Ginger. I totally owed him), and made sure that they didn't destroy my house. I just did it all with less patience than they're used to.
Besides, I'll atone once I'm feeling better.