DH took Jake and Danny to the playground to burn off some of their energy before we did something requiring DCFS intervention. This winter has gone on far too long. Danny is especially difficult since he only got to go to preschool once this week; he came down with a really ugly version of Fifth Disease and we couldn't send him to school until the rash was gone. And of course, right when that happened, he and the baby both came down with colds, so now not only is our apartment messy, but there are probably snot trails everywhere.

And now I have a nasty sore throat, which is a bad sign for the Queen of Strep.

And ohmigosh I'm so freaking tired. I told DH the other day that for someone so freaked out by even the commercials for horror movies, I have the most twisted subconscious ever. My nightmares have nightmares, and they involve serial killers who save baskets of ears and fingers, and creepy apartments underground with sloping cement walls and no windows. I even fall into nightmares when I just drift off on the bus; the other day, I kept jerking myself awake in panic and I'm sure people on the bus thought I was a total nutcase.

Which, of course, means they were pretty much on target.

I'm stressed and exhausted and burnt out and guilty in general about not handling things very well, but really life could always be worse. The sun is shining and the snow this morning (yes! snow! enough already, Chicago!) didn't stick around. And it's almost quiet here, since DH took the boys down the street; I just hear the neighbor's stereo playing 50s doo-wop really loudly, punctuated by my upstairs neighbors' screaming at each other and doing what sounds like a complicated routine involving tap shoes, a basketball and a hi-hat.

Ahh, blessed quiet.