Not good.

Not good. That's the only way to describe the week so far.

The gorgeous weather of the weekend has given way to a clammy drizzle. The temperature in our house fluctuates based on the presence of the sun, and since the sun disappeared over two days ago, not to be seen since then, the house has taken back on its winter chill. Flannel jammies and slippers have been resurrected--mine, not the kids--and even hot tea isn't warming me up. I've heard there have been flurries in some parts of town, but I haven't seen any yet, just in case you're wondering why I'm blogging and not hiding under the covers in my bed.

Yesterday morning the kids and I were eating our breakfast when Kyle threw up all over the table. Brandon stared while I rushed around trying to clean up Kyle, clean up the table, clean up the floor, and answer questions from Natalie like, "Mommy, what happened?" and "Mommy, why did Kyle make that mess?" and "Mommy, I'm done with my breakfast, so can you wipe my hands and face for me?" And then I guess Brandon decided he was done with his breakfast, too, since he started yelling and banging on the table and trying to climb out of his booster seat. Mornings are always chaotic, but someone must have decided I needed an extra challenge yesterday morning when they threw in the vomit.

All of this is on top of the fact that I haven't been sleeping well lately, and I'm starting to fear that I'm going to turn into an insomniac. I wish I could blame the lack of sleep on the fact that I'm nervous being in the house at night without Shaun--he's traveling for business right now--but I'm so exhausted from taking care of the kids with no relief that I'm definitely tired enough to sleep through any fear of evil intruders, baby thieves, and dying alone in my sleep. I just can't fall asleep when I go to bed at night, or if I manage to fall asleep quickly then I'm inevitably awake from 2 A.M. until about 4:30, and then I want to cry when I hear all three kids start talking to themselves over the baby monitors at 6:15. Don't worry--I don't actually cry--I drag my butt out of the bed and shower and rescue my kiddos from their bedrooms, but there's that moment when I whine in my head, 'Nooooooo! It can't be morniiiiiiiiiiiing! I'm tiiiiiiiiired! Why couldn't I end up with children that like to sleep iiiiiiiiiiiiiiin?! I'm not even asking for 9--just 7:15. Is 7:15 A.M. too freakin' much to ask for?'

*Sigh*

Did I mention that Shaun's traveling? This tends to make me whiney and cranky.

Fortunately, things are looking up. Shaun will be home this evening, I think the weather's supposed to improve by Friday or so, and I haven't seen any vomit for close to 30 hours. It's the little things that count.