And my mama is one smart cookie, because the last few days have stunk up the joint pretty badly.
Actually, Rob and I agreed that, on the whole, last week could be called a complete wash. We successfully managed to muddle through and that's about the best that can be said for it.
It was, as usually is the case in life, a combination of factors that made the days seem extra long. Taken on their own, I can easily see how each hurdle was more of an annoyance than a serious, long-term problem. But you know how it goes . . . those little hurdles never come up all alone. They pop up one after the other until you are left face down in the dirt at the end of the race.
Rob was on call and spent more quality time with his patients than with his children; an occupational hazard, but still frustrating at times.
At some point last week, every single child in this house took a turn being sick with either a nasty upper respiratory infection or puking. I'll let you guess which one I prefer to deal with at two in the morning.
Thursday evening, I started to feel unwell, and it was not of the upper respiratory variety, if you catch my drift.
Saturday, a deer ran out in front of the van, crushed the front end, and then kept on going. Thank God everyone is fine, although we should really get a team of scientists out here since we apparently we have bionic deer roaming the highways.
By Sunday evening, thinking we had escaped The Longest Week Ever, Rob and I collapsed into bed. We should have just chugged some Red Bull and stayed awake, since Rob got called in for a delivery and left at 1:30, and I was out of bed not much later with a - you guessed it! - puking child.
Now, after dealing with the minutiae that goes with insurance claims and body shops and rental cars, I am going to eat ice cream and sit with my husband on the sofa until we are both snoring. I give us seven minutes, tops.
Happy Monday, friends, and here's to the start of a new week!