packed

Jane made the comment after my last post in a long line of The Kids Are Sick posts that this was normal kid behavior, but how am I doing?

This made me think more than it should have. I'm still sick, but this is a non-issue. The fact is, I'm not here. Reva has been boxed up and put into storage. She's coming out briefly in March, because there are St. Paddy's gigs booked for both Celtic bands in ATL (!!!) but then she's going right back in the box so The Mom can get back onto duty. Why pretend I do anything else?  Embrace the anonymity!  Embrace the lame!

I was pondering on that earlier and decided to take a snapshot of the essence of The Mom, while holding the baby so he wouldn't destroy the teepee I made for the kids. It did not go smoothly. 

 So to answer how I am doing, I can only respond with how the mini humans are. That's how I am. I'm not actually here, I'm on autopilot Mom mode. This is exacerbated by the fact that I have a mobile baby and every time I turn my attention somewhere for a nano second, he's choking on a candy wrapper he found in the trash or smacking his poor skull onto any hard, sharp object he can find. I can't do anything but try and keep him from maiming himself for the next 18 months at least.   I can't do anything else or else.   

This post has been brought to you by a sick woman who has not done anything but eat, sleep, parent, and pop Sudafed while living in a frozen wasteland for over a week, so it might be a little maudlin. I'm not sure though, as my brain is currently packed up in a box in the basement.