This has not been a banner day of parenting, folks. Just so you know. My husband has been bed-ridden with some kind of flu/plague/awfulness since Friday afternoon, so all weekend I've been flying solo with the kids and bringing him water and pills and whatever else he needs in an attempt to quarantine him and his cooties from the rest of us. That in and of itself I can handle, but on top of it I've just agreed to learn a pile of music in a short time for various auditions in the coming weeks, and I've been set back a bit, so I'm feeling stressed. If any of the rest of us catches this bug, my whole week is shot. Fingers crossed.
I'm long on housework and short on patience. I have not been at my best, is what I'm saying. I'm fortunate that Stuart isn't the type to get all whiny and pathetic when he's sick, unlike most of the rest of us. But we are on day three of this thing with no end in sight, and this morning when the kids were fighting and wrestling and stomping around the house in their underpants and acting all entitled and snotty when I told them to deal with their dirty socks in the middle of the living room I kind of blew up and yelled and I was not a bit proud of it.
I took a few deep breaths and apologized and then we went ice skating at Vilas Park until none of our ankles could take it anymore. And then I came home and made dinner for my sick spouse whose germs I want as far from the kitchen as possible before taking my kids to the house of a friend who very kindly had invited us for a dinner party. Most of the food was Korean (and totally delicious, I might add). Daniel even made a valiant, though inelegant, attempt with his chopsticks. Predictably, he and Anya happily ate the meat and picked around the vegetables, then left the table to rough-house, knocking over and nearly destroying a hand-carved wooden statuette made by the late father of the hostess, just before dessert.
Tell me these days don't just happen to me. Tomorrow will be better. Right??