Freedom!

It's kind of sad that these days I look forward to being at work more than I look forward to weekends.

Well, sort of. 

If I could spend my weekends doing whatever I wanted, or doing nothing at my leisure, weekends would be awesome.  But these days, when I already get no down time to myself as it is (except for the random morning off to ski, but that hasn't happened in a while), weekends are just more time to clean up after short people* and argue with said short people about their need to take a nap or change one of the short people's diapers (the other is finally potty-trained).

And it's not that I don't love the short people.  I adore them.  They're hilarious and sweet.  I laugh even when they do things like come out of the bathroom announcing that they went pee not in the potty, but rather in the drain.  Problem is, we don't have a drain in the downstairs bathroom.  Only a heating vent. 

I know, it's gross.  But it's still funny. 

This past weekend, Short Person No. 2, i.e., Josie, developed some kind of stomach bug.  We were supposed to go skiing on Saturday with my cousins, but only made it to Idaho Springs before Little J started puking all over the car.  So we went home.

And I spent the entire 3-day weekend with her on me.  All.  The.  Time.  Because all she wanted was to be cuddled and held.  Which I understand -- she's a little peanut who wanted her mommy because she felt like shit.  But it meant that I was pretty much chained to the house for 3 days.

Plus, Zeke is going through a major Oedipal phase right now.  It's like he wants to consume me.  He's always on me, caressing me, kissing me, even licking me.  Which is made even creepier by the fact that he's (still) in the little boy stage when he likes to be naked if he's in the house.  I finally told him that if he wanted me to hold him or cuddle him, he needs to at least put on underpants.  Jeez.

So I am not exaggerating in the slightest when I say that I could not wait to come back to work.  To sit in my cube and work on my stuff without anyone touching me.  Or bothering me.  Or asking me for chocolate milk.  Or throwing up on me.

Yesterday Josie seemed to be doing better.  She was keeping down fluids and had even eaten a little bit.  She hadn't puked in a long time.  She slept well.  So I was all excited to drop the kids off at daycare and head off to work.

But then as we were getting ready to leave, she stood in the middle of the living room, coughed ominously, and then puked all over the rug.

I burst into tears.

But, I managed to keep it together, took Zeke to school, went to the store to get Pedialite and saltines and some other stuff we needed, and then took Josie home.  We colored for awhile, watched last night's episode of Hawaii 5-0 (such a guilty pleasure, that show), and then she went to sleep.  I cleaned the living room and did the dishes. 

And then, thankfully, Jcame home.  He was able to get off work early and knew I needed some relief, not just because I was fried, but because it's not fair that every time the kids get sick or have to stay home, it's my job that suffers. 

Tonight I will be working late.  The thought of it makes me so happy.
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*TM my friend Elizabeth.