I’m not going to lie. Not right now, anyways. This week has been ROUGH. I wrote a post. People were cool until they…weren’t.  And in what is going to seem like to the haters like God’s wrath, Peyton and Abby got sick (speaking of haters, I thank you for your continued efforts to save my soul. Feel free to stop emailing me at ANY TIME. I just delete them.)

I took them to the doctor this morning. The small doctor again, because he’s super cool. Peyton didn’t say anything either. Peyton has strep again. Stronger antibiotics and he’s fine.

Abby…well… did you ever see the Simpson’s episode where, ugh, nevermind, here’s the quote:

 Doctor: Mr. Burns, I’m afraid you are the sickest man in the United States. You have everything.
Mr. Burns : You mean I have pneumonia?
Doctor : Yes.
Mr. Burns : Juvenile diabetes?
Doctor : Yes.
Mr. Burns : Hysterical pregnancy?
Doctor : Uh, a little bit, yes. You also have several diseases that have just been discovered – in you.
Mr. Burns : I see. You sure you haven’t just made thousands of mistakes?
Doctor : Uh, no, no, I’m afraid not.
Mr. Burns : This sounds like bad news.
Doctor : Well, you’d think so, but all of your diseases are in perfect balance. Uh, if you have a moment, I can explain.
Mr. Burns : Well…
[looks at his watch]
Mr. Burns : [the Doctor puts a tiny model house door on his desk]
Doctor : Here’s the door to your body, see?
[bring up some small fuzz balls with goofy faces and limbs from under the desk]
Doctor : And these are oversized novelty germs.
[points to a different one up as he names each disease]
Doctor : That’s influenza, that’s bronchitis,
[holds up one]
Doctor : and this cute little cuddle-bug is pancreatic cancer. Here’s what happens when they all try to get through the door at once.
[tries to cram a bunch through the model door. The “germs” get stuck]
Doctor : [Stooge-like] Woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo. Move it, chowderhead.
[normal voice]
Doctor : We call it, “Three Stooges Syndrome”.
Mr. Burns : So what you’re saying is, I’m indestructible.
Doctor : Oh, no, no, in fact, even slight breeze could…
Mr. Burns : Indestructible.

I realize now that this quote doesn’t quite fit. But it’s funny so I’m leaving it. And it kind of feels like Abby has everything.  She has bronchitis, thrush from the steroid (ughghgugh, I washed her mouth out after every use EVERY USE! Still got thrush), conjunctivitis in both eyes, strep and possibly walking pneumonia. They just went ahead and gave her the strongest dose ever (I’m being dramatic on purpose) of antibiotics and kryptonite to hopefully knock it all out. She has to take the inhaled steroids twice a day, the nasal steroid once a day, the albuterol every 3 freaking hours, even during the night, the thrush medicine every four hours, claratin, antibiotics, and alternating advil and tylenol to keep her fever down, and monkeyspit to keep her airways fully lubricated. That last one was to see if you’re still paying attention. You are? High five. You’re a better person than me. Any paragraph on a blog that’s longer than four sentences I just skip completely.

This is what my kids take:

This is what I take:

and about seventeen of my favorite caffeinated beverages a day.

I’m not going to get into how tired I am. I’m not going to even tell you about the worry that keeps me up at night. Instead, I’m just going to say that this is all is why the state pays for us to have a nanny. SO I SLEEP. Maybe not today or tomorrow. But eventually, dammit, I. will. sleep.

Tomorrow is Lance’s birthday. I’d tell you to go over to facebook and wish him a happy 3-4, but he doesn’t get on facebook. And if you have seen him on there, fighting with me, it’s me, fighting with me.  You can tell him here, but he only gets on when people are being hateful. So, um, sorry suckers. But instead of wallowing in guilt, remember, you can make it up to the Magnussons.  My birthday is NEXT WEEK. I’ll post my list of gifts you can buy me tomorrow. I’m turning THIRTY! 30. It warrants gifts.