"I'm high as a kite and my teeth are green."

Whatever disease struck our household is currently running its course. Abbie has a stuffed and runny nose, and the drool soaked shirt that accompanies her new mouth-breathing ways, but otherwise seems no more rambunctious than usual. Ellie has a sore throat and feels a little off kilter, but otherwise feels okay. If the twins are sick, I hope all of their colds are this benign; their noses are a little runny and their breathing is a little snuffly, but they’re in good spirits otherwise except for that hour-long meltdown last night that I think was teething-related anyway. They haven’t slept all the way through the night recently, though.

I, on the other hand, was floored. That’s okay with me. When the kids are miserable, everyone is miserable. When I’m miserable, everyone else can go about their lives blissfully unaware of my soreness as long as no does anything silly like knock a glass of water on the floor or try to hold a conversation with me. Plus I can take NyQuil, something I can’t give (with a clear conscience) to the children. Yet.

Thankfully I’m feeling better already. This is unusual for me; generally when I’m sick, I feel kind of sick for a week or two. This cold came on Wednesday night with a sore throat and general yuckiness. The next morning I felt thoroughly rotten with vague aches, a killer headache, and sinuses that felt like I’d shoved a dish towel up one nostril, pulled an end out through my mouth, and was tugging it back and forth through the cavity like an oversized piece of dental floss. By the afternoon, I didn’t want to move, which made me regret the stairclimber session I’d undertaken an hour or two earlier. This mood continued through this afternoon when things started to improve, and now I’m back up to feeling rotten. Hopefully by tomorrow night I’ll just have a mostly vestigial sore throat as my immune system banishes the last remnants of the virus from my body like so much optimism for a Cub playoff run.

In the meantime, I need my sleep. Sixish broken hours of sleep will suffice when I’m healthy, but not so much with a cold. NyQuil, take me away.