Especially unlikeable

I do not like Mondays. The last two have been especially unlikeable. Last Monday I woke up with the stomach flu. Boo. It came on just like that. I went to bed perfectly fine and woke up on the verge of barf. Injustice. I felt that way all day. By nightfall I felt slightly better. ish. Until Paige woke up at 3 am on Tuesday morning. Never a good sign. She threw up well into the afternoon. She is my favorite thrower-upper. She actually makes it to the toilet. The boys do not. It is pure disgust. They are lucky we bonded when they were young, otherwise...I would be a very bad mom. But I digress. The barf ended with the girls in the family. Thank you.

This week, Monday was worse. I had big plans. It was THE day. The day we would start our new healthy lifestyle. Doesn't that sound dramatic? Eating right, exercising, making sure Jeff dodges the diabetic bullet that is certainly headed his way. So, I got the boys off to school, Paige off to pre-school, and headed straight to the gym. I raced along on that elliptical machine for 30 minutes. Then I raced down to the daycare to grab Brooks and head home in time for a shower before kindergarten pick-up. I must have been in too much of a hurry. I grabbed his car seat, stepped of the curb, and fell to the ground. Just like that. My ankle was huge. Brooks was screaming in his car seat. And I was hit with a wave of nausea that left me utterly useless. It was the pain. Immediate and intense. A girl came over and helped with Brooks, getting him into the car, feeding him a bottle, cooing in a calm voice. She was heaven sent. I pulled my shoe off and watched my ankle swell before my eyes. Ugh. Finally the first wave subsided and I stood, hopped to the car, drove home. I was sure it was broken. I was wrong. It was just a sprain. Terrible and horrible and painful, but a sprain nonetheless. And now it has been a week and the swelling has gone down a bit, leaving behind a purpley yellowy bruise that makes my foot look dirty. And it makes me feel claustrophobic. Not being able to move my foot or walk without a limp is so annoying I want to scream. And so I do on occasion. And that is one big, heaping plate of whine. And that is why I do not like Mondays. The end.