Down Time

Let's be clear: I really, really don't have time for any down time right now. My boss has entrusted me with a huge project for work, and despite repeated reassurances that I'm going to meet the deadline, I don't see how it's physically possible for me to meet this deadline. Denial, it ain't just a river.

Plus I promised a friend that I would do a stamp workshop for her at the end of the month, plus I'm trying to sell a bunch of retired Stampin Up sets in an attempt to declutter, plus I still have a husband and three kids and a cat and NO HOUSEKEEPER.

Oh, and on Thursday I got a note from Kendra's teacher telling me that "you ended up being the room mom for our class." She added a little smiley face as if an emoticon would somehow make that announcement fun to read. I've been a room mom. Being a room mom is neither easy nor cheap.

I think that smiley face note must have been the final straw, because on Friday morning I got flat-out sick. Well, not at first. From the hours of 6:30 to 10 a.m. I was functioning fairly normally. One of the Amys was here and we were pricing our stamp sets for sale. Sometime around 9 I remembered I hadn't eaten breakfast yet, so I had a bowl of Quaker Oats Squares.

And then I lay on the floor writhing in pain.

Amy had the good sense to hit the front door running. She missed the fateful trip to the bathroom where I discovered what Quaker Oats Squares look like after an hour in the tummy. Here's a hint: They are no longer square-shaped.

My four-year-old has Fridays off from school, so I informed David that he got to play as much Wii and watch as much TV as he wanted. I told him to wake Mommy up when he wanted lunch but Mommy was going to take a nap. And then I passed out cold. Actually, I passed out hot. I was running fever now.

Sweet David was a dream. He completely left me alone until 1 p.m. when he requested a PB&J. I dizzily made him a sandwich and stumbled back to bed. The Hubs was my hero and picked up the girls from school and kept all the kids occupied while I lay unconscious in bed.

Now here's where stupidity comes in...

On Saturday morning I felt better. Not great, but better. Good enough that I thought I could work this stamp sale that Amy and I had committed to. We left all six of our kids with Kevin (who earned yet another stripe as the best father and husband ever), drove to the other side of town, and sat at a table hawking our used stamps. Sometime around 12:30 I even thought to myself, "Wow, I feel pretty good. I need to eat lunch."

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I made a Whataburger run and brought back some fast-food goodness for all the stampers. I happily ate a junior burger, a handful of fries, and a Diet Dr Pepper. An hour later I still felt fine, so I removed my malted chocolate milkshake from the freezer and began drinking that.

I do believe the milkshake was the downfall.

Amy and I came home and worked for a couple more hours. We took photos of all our leftover stamp sets in preparation for the massive and inevitable eBay sale. She even helped me clean my dining room table and study. I was starting to head downhill but the distraction was helping me forget the milkshake that was sitting like a lead ball in my stomach.

I tried eating some plain toast for dinner. Toast is safe, right? It's part of the BRAT diet. Toast was also the catalyst for my stomach to decide to empty itself of all contents. Pretty.

Since then, I've slept, popped some Tylenol, sipped some water, slept, checked email, slept, visited Facebook, and slept.

I just got on the scale and I've lost three pounds. Sounds good to me. Plus, my stomach hasn't looked this flat since before kids. Maybe the sick diet isn't so bad.

However, now that I'm starting to perk up again, all those deadlines and such are looming over my head. I am now three days closer to my deadline and have gotten zero accomplished in 72 hours.

I've got no time for down time. But I was grateful for all the sleep.