Fever

Fevers go up and fevers come down. At its peak, Gen’s temperature was 103.1.

Welcome to my day.

Genny’s little forehead has been kissed many times. Crankiness was an unfortunate side effect—for both her and me.

Even with Genny feeling as crappity as she did, we still managed to get a lot done today: three loads of laundry, a trip to the grocery store, and a walk with friends to the playground.

And now here I sit, with my mail piled on my unbuttoned jeans lap, my belly poofing comfortably out. My unwashed hair pulled back in my usual ponytail. An enormous pimple on my chin. I feel like the opposite of glamour. I can’t even remember what it feels like to feel pretty.

I’d love a facial. And a manicure and pedicure. And a massage. And a clothes shopping spree. And a new purse and pair of shoes. And—this is me being needy and greedy. To go from a single independent woman who bought lots of fun stuff to an overworked and underpaid mom can really suck. Not that I’d wish to trade it. I’m just being silly. And tired.

Will I ever not be tired again?