As usual, the day after my spouse flies away for an out-of-town work assignment, everyone gets sick.
OK, I'm exaggerating, one of us isn't sick. Three out of four is enough though, please.
This happens EVERY SINGLE TIME that she leaves. In three days I should be hacking up a lung, we should all be running at the nose and at least one will be running a fever. The first stages of stomach flu and head colds have appeared, misery to follow.
The surprising thing is that I'm not too freaked out by all this. Sure, I've been prepared by the two dozen other times this has happened, but it is more than that. It is that having sick days with your kids (when it doesn't threaten employment) isn't all bad.
Currently our eleven year old is playing puppy with the three year old, teaching him to sit up, beg and roll over. I'm wearing my pajamas with little holly leaves and berries, and I see a lot of G-rated videos, juice, soup and chocolate cake in our future. Sure, it is almost impossible to get anything done when people are whining, you just want to lie down on the couch and die and the tissues are disappearing faster than the cake, but I'll be sick and won't care.
With luck, the strapping, healthy teen will stay healthy, and the nauseated preteen will get well, so that it is only me and the three who are snuffling through the days until my spouse returns.
On the easel: Blue
On the laptop: How to Raise a Geek
On the art table: da Vinci Arts Fair acceptance
On the nightstand: Circles of Confusion by April Henry
On my mind: Struggling for time, painting more, loving the fall leaves, new magazine Jane & Jane, home and lifestyle magazine for lesbians