Wow. I really didn’t anticipate the volume of work that I would have to get through last week.  Aside from the little pop-in to let you know that I was going to be busy, I haven’t even thought about my little corner of the blogosphere until now.  Shame on me!

It’s good be writing, though, especially today.  It’s only 9:45 and I’ve been putting out fires right, left, and sideways.  Mo is on spring break this week, and much to her dismay, we are keeping it close to home. As in, we’re staying home.  She’s only six and yet, she was completely crushed that we weren’t going to Disney, Cancun (her words) or some other vacation destination for spring break.  Um, weren’t you just off from school for Christmas? Isn’t summer vacation coming right at us? You’ll survive a week at home with mom. Besides, Co does indeed have school. Kind of tricky trying to do it up vacation style when your sister still has her regular 8:30 to 3pm schedule.

I figured that Mo and I would just take it easy this week. Trips to the Y, Target, the movies to see “The Lorax”, maybe get our hair or our nails done, stuff like that.  Too bad for Mo-dizzle, she came down with a sore throat and runny nose over the week-end. At least she’s on break. She could have a sick day or two of movies at home, while I futzed around doing this and that.  Cut to this morning at 6am.  I’m trying to find the inclement weather policy for Co’s school as big, wet snowflakes fell from the sky and adhered to the bushes.  Mo comes down says, “Um, so I went to wake up Co to tell her that it was snowing? And there’s this brown, smelly stuff in her bed?”

Ugh. Brown, smelly stuff? I’m not ready.

Mo and I head upstairs to survey the scene, and poor Co-biscuit. She was dead asleep in. . .well, let’s just say she got sick in night. . .all.over.the.bed.and.the.wall.  THE WALL! I’ve never seen anything like it.  And I effectively pulled myself out of the running for Mother of the Year by uttering that warm and fuzzy term of endearment all sick kids want to hear, “HOLY CRAP!”  Yes, I’m breaking my arm patting myself on the back here.

Fast forward to several loads of laundry, a garbage bag filled with soiled bed clothes, one 4 year old in the tub, one 6 year old in the middle of the foray complaining of the smell (thanks, Mo), and me, marveling at how when my kids do something, they do it big (it was on the wall!).

I never did find the inclement weather policy for Co’s school, but it really didn’t matter in the end.  I got both of the girls cleaned up, bundled up in sweats and fleece blankets and parked them on the couch.

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I completely turned into my mom and served them tea and dry toast.  When I heard myself say, “I don’t care that it tastes bad. You have to keep that down before you have anything else,” — oof! I knew had officially become my mother.

A movie was fired up on the TV and some soup roiled and boiled on the stove.  I think I made myself a cup of coffee somewhere in there, but I don’t remember where I put it.  When I find it, I’m sure it’ll be far from hot, but no matter; I like iced coffee, too.

I was going to put in my recipe from Friday, but 1) I didn’t make anything of note this week and 2) after all the scraping, Goof Off! spraying, and bleaching that went on, including a recipe in this post – no matter how delicious — just didn’t seem like a good idea.

I’m off to find my coffee, grab my stack of unread magazines and try to steal a few quiet moments for me, myself and I before the next round of “Mom, can I have. . .” starts up again.  I’m sure both of the girls will be on the mend sooner rather than later.  I just walked through the kitchen to see them, their hands and faces pressed against the window looking at the falling snow.

“Ooooh,” said Mo to her sister, “Look at all that snow! After we drink our tea, let’s put on our snowpants and go outside!”

Coughs, sniffles, upset tummies. . .how quickly they’re forgotten in favor of a few flakes.