When I tell Shmuel that I want to host, he thinks I’m a few flowers short of a full bouquet
OF
course, Yitzi is complaining about both ears, plus a cold. At this point, I don’t even call Dr. Plotzker, I just yank the drops he gave me last time out of the cabinet and administer them like an old pro. Which I am.
Why do my kids have such weak immune systems? I do not know. Yeeees, their charts are up to date, yesss, they get vitamins daily. And yeeees, I am behind at work and cannot afford to miss another day. Sometimes, I feel like the boy who cried wolf when I message the office that I need to work from home with a sick child, and then I’m like, wait, no, my kids really are sick.
See, I’m so tired, I forget my own life.
I’m scared to check on Yitzi in the morning, but baruch Hashem he seems fine, and he heads off to kindergarten happy as a clam. I, on the other hand, can’t seem to rub the sleep from my very gritty, sand-filled eyes.
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