I’m sick. I mean, I was sick before. My son brought home some lovely cold from daycare and we all caught it. It was no fun, but he’s having the worst time with it. The poor thing can’t blow his nose or take any kind of medication for it. And because he’s had it for almost two weeks, he’ll probably have to go to the doctor and get some antibiotics.

I was nearly over the cold myself when I started feeling a fever come on heavy Monday afternoon. By early evening, I could barely stand without wanting to fall over, or throw up, or curl up in a ball and die. I handed my son off to my husband, with the same warning an electronic device will give you before completely crapping out. “I’ve reached 10% battery power and will be shutting off unless I get some sort of recharge.”

I then went to sleep for the next 10 hours. My husband, to his credit, let me sleep. I took the next day off work, even though I couldn’t really spare the time, so thorough was my exhaustion, I had no other option. I slept a good amount that day and evening as well. Just as I began to feel like I could function again, I sat up and realized I’d slept funny and my neck was all crampy and jacked up.

I’m still wincing from it, but hoping that I should be able to get through a night alone with my son. (My husband has another overnight this evening.) But if today has been any indication of that, I’m not likely to be able to lift him or turn my head without feeling that sharp jabbing in my neck.