Okay so I know that it’s goblins to blame when I find my coffee cup empty and it’s the gremlins fault with shit breaks but who or what is to blame when people get sick? Because seriously whatever is in charge of that has gone overboard with their mojo on me. I’ve got a GI bug (still, like wtf) and now a chest cold as of this morning. Have I mentioned just how much I hate the winter with its cold season from hell? Consider it mentioned. I think this is why all I want to do is sleep as of late but at least there is no migraine today.

So this morning the boys made it on the bus! School was not cancelled. But the process of getting said boys on the bus involved chasing Little Bear back outside after I had already bundled him up and taken him out to wait for the bus. He ran back inside and up the stairs – stripping shit off as he went. Needless to say my dad wasn’t impressed with all the yelling to be had from either of us. My mother stepped out of the bedroom – which you know at that point shit just got real – and Little Bear decided to get his fanny back outside. I honestly don’t know how we didn’t miss the bus this morning.

So I waved my two youngest sons off, went back inside, told my oldest he needed to get up to study, and crawled my ass back into bed. Next thing I know my dad was poking his head in to bug me about how Scholar Owl was still sleeping and he wanted to know if I knew that and if he could ask him to take out the trash since it was garbage day.

I’m thinking to myself that if he has what I have he’s probably wishing he could sleep FOREVER without stupid people bugging the fuck out of him BUT… I tell Dad that I did wake him up and if he needs a hand with the trash then yes, grab Scholar Owl for that. In the end though it’s not Dad’s place to worry about that shit. If Scholar Owl is going to sleep during the day then he needs to be doing the school work at night. Dad doesn’t get to dictate that shit.

But it is something that I do need to discuss with Scholar Owl. We chose his study times to be at the same time as when the other two are in public school because we’ve already figured out it’s next to impossible to get shit done otherwise. If he wants to change it that’s fine but it means working through less than ideal conditions.

So whatever, I went back to sleep and I honestly have no idea if he got any of his work done today. I’ll deal with it later.

For the most part the day went better than yesterday. Mostly… except Little Bear gave me a heart attack.

He gets off the bus this afternoon and makes a beeline for the front of the house where there are these HUGE icicles hanging from the roof. Like they are almost touching the ground huge. I know what he wants to do. He wants to grab them and pull them down. So I’m yelling for him the leave them alone and get his ass inside as I’m running to him because of course I wasn’t out there before the bus came – because we use the side door from the kitchen, not the front door. Awesome. So he gets to the ice and two of them fall down and I swear one of them damn near came close to hitting his head. And he doesn’t understand why I am angry. He doesn’t understand why I’m hauling his ass inside the house. Doesn’t understand any of this. At all. Nope. Far as he’s concerned I’m the bad guy.

This child is going to be the death of me. Today I wasn’t fast enough and that boy just got fucking lucky. And I have no doubt that tomorrow if I’m not right out there he’ll do it all over again because there are still more of those icicles hanging. I don’t know maybe Scholar Owl and I should knock them down while he’s in school tomorrow so it’s one less thing for me to worry about. Maybe Dad knows how to do it safely.

Tuxedo Cat has been behaving oddly all afternoon and evening. He was fussing and bossing Little Bear around like a mini parent which isn’t really his thing. And it was over micro shit. “No you can’t serve yourself spaghetti.” Stuff like that. On the screen I know it looks benign but listening to it… it’s like World War III over here. It’s just spaghetti. The worst that happens is Little Bear makes a mess and Little Bear has to clean it up. So why is Tuxedo Cat flipping out? I don’t know exactly. Maybe it freaked him out that I got so upset over the thing with the ice? Maybe he was worried that the spaghetti would be too hot and Little Bear would get burned? Hard to say what goes on in that head of his.

Things have at least calmed down after dinner. Everyone seems pretty chill for now. If I’m lucky they’ll pass out at a decent hour and I’ll be able to snag a full night’s sleep.