I've been semi-MIA the past few days, here's why:
Last Thursday my scrapbook peeps and I went to a cabin in the swamp/woods to hang and crop. This was not my idea. I am not remotely what you would call "outdoorsy." I'm allergic to everything and I have asthma and I don't like insects, but I like my friends, so I went. It was our own little retreat and I have to say, I had more fun in the cabin than at any retreat I've been to and believe me, I've been to a bunch. So, yeah, we were in a cabin with air conditioning and running water and all, but it was still roughing it as far as I was concerned. Frugal Beth and I arrived to see we would have to bring our bags up fairly steep stairs. Now, this was a scrapbooking trip and we had my minivan (maxifun) packed to full capacity with scrapbook bags, plastic 12x12 organizers, ice chest, overnight bags, bags of snacks and beverages, pizzas, and a tray of Triple Dippers from Chili's. If we ever do the cabin-thing again, we're getting one with a ramp (and bringing more southwestern eggrolls 'cause them was delicious).
On the way to the cabin Beth and I talked about how sad Farrah's death was, then said I said "well, you know how celebrities deaths come in threes. Ed McMahon, now Farrah." And for some reason after that, I checked Facebook on my iPhone (no, I'm not obsessed) to see everyone's status updates read something like this: OMG WTF Michael Jackson is dead?!?!?
I am nothing if not resourceful, and went to Google news where I found a plethora of contradicting headlines from CNN, AP, Reuters, and every news organization known to man. This just wouldn't do. Beth and I had to know the truth before we were smack dab in the middle of gatorland, where we feared there would be no television or wifi. At that point I realized the person my friends rely on for pop culture information is me and there is no one to call to confirm this story. Sad, isn't it? I called Melissa, who had not left for the swamp yet, and she said MJ was in the hospital and of course moments later I check CNN again they're saying he's gone. We arrived at the cabin, where Megan was already scrapbooking (I know, the nerve!) and watching -- get this -- Friends on the flat screen. Beth and I bust out with "how can you be watching Friends at a time like this?! Michael Jackson's dead!" Seriously.
And so began the Michael Jackson Death Watch weekend. Heartwarming, isn't it?
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Saturday I tried to post layouts to the blog on the iPhone, but got a message from Typepad saying my account was put on hold because something was wrong with billing my credit card. Okay, so I got a new debit card and forgot to update my info, whatev.
Sunday I made it home to see that Billy Mays had died and decided something very strange was going on in the universe. That afternoon a mucho tired me took the almost 6 year-old, her big sis, two friends, and my bud Frugal Beth (mom of one of the friends) to the circus, as if I don't have a three-ring circus at my house. Please. And I nearly twisted my ankle on a New Orleans sidewalk. Imagine that.
Monday afternoon I noticed five or so red streaks on my right heel going up my ankle and two of the streaks going up my calf. I'm not a doctor, but I thought this was bad and with the way people are dying lately, I thought about having a will drawn up. Shortly after that, I started feeling pretty bad and researched the streak-thing online which made it sound like I was very near death or at least getting ready for an emergency room visit. Then I talked to a couple of friends in the medical field about it (shout out to my peeps), and by the end of the night was pretty sure I wasn't dying. And pretty sure is good enough for me.
Tuesday I woke up feeling like death on a bad day. I was positive I'd be sitting on a cloud learning the harp with Elvis by nightfall (totally kidding, Elvis is still alive). I know everyone has different thoughts about what heaven will be like. I've read what the Bible has to say on the subject several times, but I like to think Fred Astaire is giving dancing lessons and Johnny Carson and Ed McMahon do a nightly talk show.
Yesterday afternoon I felt a little better and started writing this very post.
Now it's Thursday night and I'm nearly 100%. Streaks have faded, energy is back, and I didn't need a nap this afternoon.
Here's the thing, being sick is not enjoyable. I spent a good portion of this week trying to rest. Yes, I said trying. For those of you without children or just one child, let me paint a picture for you. I will be your Bob Ross, minus the afro.
It's 9am, I'm in bed. Katie is standing next to my bed asking what's for breakfast. My hubs is sitting with his laptop at the kitchen table. I tell her to ask her daddy. Next comes Molly asking if they can go swimming. I tell her to ask her daddy. Katie returns, says her daddy told her to wait until he's finished sending an email. Andrew enters the room with no Pull-Up or undies on, jumps on my bed and asks for cookies. At this point I get up. Later that afternoon I attempt a nap. Exactly three minutes after I get comfy, here comes Katie asking if they can play upstairs. Next the hubs asks where his iPod is. Now, I do not use his iPod. Where in the marriage vows does it say "I will find everything you lose" for the rest of my life? For realz. Next it's Andrew saying he can't find MollyKatie (he's reduced them to one name). Then Molly comes in, asking when their daddy is taking them to swim and can she wear her tennis shoes instead of her flip flops. Out of nowhere Katie pops up, says Molly won't play upstairs and wants a snack. The hubs returns, says he's taking the kids swimming. The kids all go nuts and run out of the room, only to return seconds later asking where 42 things are.
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Sunday marks the beginning of Kerry's Crazy July, with our anniversary and Katie's birthday, followed by my berfday, then Andrew's, and the hubs at the end of the month. It's about this time every year when I remind myself that Katie was due in June and had she been born then, it would have lessened my July stress. I mean, come on.
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