Shocked

I had no idea that two days could make me so tired. Just two days! Haven't been this tired since the weekend that I spent in labor.

This won't be a particularly nice post, or a cohesive post, or really anything worth existing at all. But I can't go to bed until the dryer finishes, and there's nothing really interesting happening on the internet right now. Well, ok. That isn't a true statement, probably, but nothing interesting is happening on the bits of internet I keep refreshing. (This perhaps, is something akin to reading just the 1st and 28th pages of David Copperfield and expecting the love scene to just APPEAR on them if you read long enough. But oh well.) SO I'm waiting on the dryer, Joe and V are sleeping.

We had three of the nephew/niece crowd come down for the weekend. It was a blast. We saw the Silent Drill Platoon perform, went out for pizza, Joe took them to fireworks, I stayed up for an hour with one last night while he was "sick" in the bathroom, I stayed up for another two hours waiting for either (a) the first one to decide he was so sick he wanted to be returned to his parents, who are three hours away, or (b) a second one got sick. Neither happened. In fact, he felt so much better that he had two bowls of cereal and a glass of milk for breakfast today. Nothin' wrong with that boy. We also went to Mass, went to the beach, played Scrabble and Cranium, and had pizza again.

Maybe it's the not sleeping between 0230 and 0545 this morning. Maybe it's that Friday night was spent frantically running through a horrible dream in which I lost my baby in a shopping mall. Maybe it's that God designed us to gradually build our families up from one to four. Maybe it's that the week included all of my piano students on schedule for the first time in a month. Maybe it's the weather. Maybe it's the return of last spring's demonic allergy thing where I have a wheezy throat and unstoppable cough. I don't know.

But I've never been so tired in my life.

I take them back to their parental units tomorrow morning. Throwing up notwithstanding, it really was a lot of fun! (Oh, and the cat threw up because he'd been drinking out of the toilet, and I'm like feeding the baby and the rest of everyone is all out there going "Jen! Jen! Aunt Jen! Jennifer!" and so I come out in the hall and all three kids--and Joe--are standing over this teeny little cat barf like it's a dead animal. So I say, "Oh, it's fine. I'll get it. Relax. Move on, citizens!" and most of them do. But my niece is standing halfway in the bedroom doorway, a little in the shadow, like someone should keep vigil with the body or something. Sigh. I'm thinking, Ok. It's a puddle of cat spit that, yes, is a remarkable yellow color but I'm pretty sure I told everyone you needed to be putting the seat down every time, and flushing, and there's also a piece of grass in the puddle. He's a cat. He barfs all the time, and he eats grass like it's his job. Maybe this will teach him to drink from the commode. Go to bed.)

Five more minutes on the dryer.