As if I didn't feel crappy enough today as it is, Sammy just clocked me in the eye socket with one of his cars. So while Jay teaches him (yet again) not to throw things, I'm sitting here with a freezer bag of Steamfresh broccoli on my face.

This yucky flu-sinus-infection-upper-respiratory fun made its way (quickly, thank god) through Sammy and has found its way to Jay. Because two miserably fever-chilled and snot-filled adults and one wildly hyperactive child makes for a restful, recovery-filled afternoon. Not.

Not. That just seems so 14-year-old of me.

I'm missing the wedding of one of our girls from the center tonight. It makes me sad to think I won't be there to see her say, "I do". But Alisa's there and Amber promises there will be video, and really - they don't need me hacking up a lung during their sweet vows of everlasting love - though I probably could have sniffled a duet to "Here Comes the Bride." (Though she married her adorable girlfriend, so who walks in to the song? Hmmmm.)

Okay, Sammy's now reset the TV buttons and I think Jay has conked out slumped against the couch. Before chaos reigns, I should probably put the broccoli back in the freezer and redirect my son to something a little more toddler-friendly - and preferably pillow-light or tied down, lest I end up with two black eyes.