the kids are watching she-ra, eating pop tarts for dinner. i’m laying on the couch. i’ve got the flu. fever, aches, sore throat, odd dreams, and assorted wishes for sweet peaceful death, or at least a day off from mothering. (not that anyone got much mothering today, but i felt like i should be mothering. perhaps i just pine for a release from guilt–which might be a different topic entirely.)

yesterday was my sweet v’s three year birthday. also me and husband’s eighth anniversary.

the celebration(s) took second place in my cerebellum. husband is going through his mock denture board and has spent every day and most of every night at the lab for the past week. he didn’t come home last night until three in the morning. and despite my fever and sore throat and the nyquil, i woke up every hour or so hoping that he would be there. i get so frustrated sometimes that life has to keep going without him. or at least i try to keep things in motion for the sake of the kids. i think if they weren’t around, i would just enter suspended animation, forget everything around me until this torture of a residency is over.

i keep hearing little people in my head saying, “bloom where you’re planted” and “attitude determines altitude,” but sometimes i wonder, is there any motivational speaker out there who has a mantra like, “sometimes life just sucks big time and you’ve got to muscle through it”? because we might get along better.

at the risk of depressing you, click here to see a beautiful baby. and maybe, if you’re lucky, tomorrow i’ll tell you the story of when my psychiatrist fired me.