Cold germs, when combined with testosterone, must render the victim completely useless. Or at least, that’s what my crackerjack research has shown me over the past 12 hours.

It is 4am, and I just finished feeding Ryan. I am so frustrated and worked up I thought I’d blow off some steam (gently!) within these pages. It feels well-deserved right now, anyway.

After seven straight weeks of Mommyhood, I took the evening “off” and went out with Carol. Stephen got home at 5:45p and I left the house at 6p. Carol and I met at the Bread Co. for dinner and then headed over to Borders to see the Javier Mendoza Band play an in-store. It was a nice, laid back evening.

Rewind to early this morning. As usual, I had my list of things to do all planned out. In between feeding Ryan every three hours (his new feeding schedule!) I could get about two hours’ worth of work completed. I called Stephen and asked what he was planning to wear for graduation tomorrow, in case I needed to do some laundry. He complained about his headcold, then told me he wanted to wear khakis and a shirt. I headed to the basement and threw in some wash. I ended up doing four loads.

I also gave the baby a bath and washed his hair. Then the electricity was shut off for “routine maintenance” and we were forced to leave the (hot and humid) house for a while. To be useful, we ran up to Justin’s school, went shopping at Target, and went to my dad’s house to feed Ryan. Then I came home, folded some laundry, ran the dishwasher, counted box tops and Campbell’s labels for Justin’s school (since I’m in charge of that crap this year), and took care of the bills that came in the mail.

When we’d returned home from my dad’s, I’d also called Stephen. I reminded him that I was going out with Carol, and that he had to iron his clothes for tomorrow. No problem. Then he complained about his cold.

When he got home from work, I was running a little behind. I’d folded most of baby’s laundry, but I’d left it on the counter in the kitchen. I ran around like a nut, making a bunch of bottles of formula and trying to pull myself together. Stephen commented that he’d iron both his clothes and his gown while I was gone. Fine with me. When I came out of my room to leave, Stephen was sitting on the sofa with Ryan. I grabbed a bottle, a bib, and a burp cloth and tossed it all to him before I took off.

Fast forward to my return home. The living room light was on, but my men are nowhere to be found. I took a peek in Ryan’s room, and found him fast asleep. Stephen was in bed in our room, out like a light. I noticed that our clock was still blinking from the power outage this afternoon - meaning no alarm had been set for the morning’s trip down to Rolla for graduation. I also noticed that all the laundry was still on the counter. Baby had no sheets on his bed, but was sleeping on the bare mattress. The gown for graduation was still wadded up in its original packaging. I prayed that he’d at least remembered to put the bottles away that I’d made earlier; he had! Wow!

The place was a disaster, but I did notice that his Mac was on the sofa now. Well, thank God. I’d hate to think his new AfterWords project was neglected for an evening. Holy shit, the world might end if he didn’t work on that every single evening.

So it’s now 4:22am, and Ryan is finally chilling out on my chest. I am looking forward to an early f’ing morning of not only getting myself ready, but getting my two children ready as well. You know, Ryan and Stephen. I was so stressed about the situation when I went to bed at 11p that I’ve hardly slept. I guess I should have just stayed up and ironed clothes and cleaned the house. But dammit! I shouldn’t have to!

Okay, I’m feeling a little better. Time to try to sleep (again).

Wondering if pneumonia would render him a drooling idiot,
michelle