Okay, so after another sleepless night spent with a coughing child, I staggered out of bed (out of couch, really) and showered and got dressed up. Why? Because I finally had a doctor's appointment for Rachel. Yes, the exciting day had arrived, and I wanted to be prepared.
Let's face it - when the doctors see short, slightly rotund me come in dressed in unstylish jeans, they peg me as a SAHM frump. So I pulled on my power outfit (complete with 2-inch heels, which put me just over 5 feet) and Talbot's wool coat (8 dollars at a local rummage sale) and took Rachel to her appointment. I even combed my hair. And I left all the other kids home, because if the doctor realizes that I homeschool, well, I'm a double-frump.
Wouldn't you know, this is the first pediatrician appointment I've gone to in aeons where the doctor or nurse has not called me "Mom"? Coincidence? I think not. And, the triage nurse asked me if I needed a note for work. Me - as if I were a real person. I didn't even know that adults needed notes for work. But I didn't let on. "No," I said coolly, "not necessary." I wanted to add that I was the person people had to bring notes to, but I didn't think I could pull it off.
So, the doctor was very nice and gave us the codeine syrup and warned me, "Now, you don't want to give this to her until bedtime, because it will knock her right out." Horrors. Rachel barely had her coat off at home before I got that stuff down her. She had a wonderful, 3-hour, blissfully-cough-free nap.
In the meantime I drove 45 minutes so Anna could pick up her flute from the repair shop. We live in a densely populated metropolitan area, so I have no idea why we had to drive all that way for a decent repair shop. I can't imagine what people in Nebraska or Wyoming have to do when a musical instrument needs fixing. Being sick myself, I felt like hell. I came home, went to bed, and let the house fall apart around me, as is its wont when I am not on duty.
I got up briefly later in the evening - just in time to hear Theo tell Larry that he had just seen a mouse in the family room. Larry said he'd take care of it later; but, upon hearing the hysterical noises emanating from his wife's mouth, he wisely readjusted his to-do list and put "catch mouse" at the very top. See? He loves me. Or maybe he just hates hysterical noises.
He couldn't find Theo's mouse last night, but a mouse did show up in the trap in our kitchen this morning. So, either we caught it (good), or our house is truly over-run with tiny little rodents that only look cute in nursery rhyme books (bad). Not being overly optimistic, Larry bought a whole bunch of mousetraps this morning, so we wouldn't run out while he goes away this week. It's not every husband who would think of such a caring gesture before he deserts his wife, now is it?