After spending much of yesterday glassy-eyed with sick children draped all over me, I ended up with a nasty case of busy brain last night, and couldn't fall asleep until around midnight. Gah!

Today, for some reason, my body feels like it's trying to curl in on itself, in a pill-bug like fashion. I would love to just lay in the fetal position under fluffy blankets and sip juice, but my kids, although still sick, are no longer feverish and have appetites again. I've made grilled cheese, oatmeal, and soup. In that order. And it's 10 am.

My kids are SO going to school Monday. I'll coat 'em with Lysol just like I would with bug repellant and send them in. Maybe with a cork in each nostril.

It's funny how I was lamenting the start of school, the loss of those precious at-home years with my children, just a week ago, and now I am wringing my hands if they are home with me. Just can't make me happy.

Actually, I've been thinking about the appeal of greener pastures. I'm pretty content. I don't spend much time wallowing in self-pity, but there are days when I revisit the past and marvel at the time I had - time to think, to sleep, to read and enjoy the company of friends.

In my rose colored glasses, I was delighted with my life, but the reality was not so pretty. I was unmotivated by my job, slept too little because I partied too much, never had any money, didn't read much of anything besides magazines and craved solitary time.

Those pastures are sounding awfully familiar to me.

As I sat on my couch, moping, my attention drifted out the windows (must. wash.) to my pathetic patch of lawn. It's basically mud, with a few scattered patches of green. Despite several efforts to reseed it last year, it never took hold. Of course, I never really followed through. I'd have the kids rough up the bare spots and then would let them help liberally coat the whole thing with seed, but we didn't fertilize on schedule (or at all, the second time) and we probably didn't water enough.

That is SUCH a good metaphor for my life. I actually have all that I could wish for, but I don't take the care with it that I should. Instead of pulling weeds and watering frequently, I wait until my life is a riot of dandelions, and then storm about cussing while my children snatch puffballs and scatter the seeds with popsicle scented breaths, sending their wishes into the air (and apparently, back down into my lawn, where they take root and multiply, unlike the damn grass seed.)

I was lamenting the state of my lawn to my dad once, and he said "Dandelion greens are good eating" while nodding seriously.

Ooooo-kay.

I love the look of a smooth, plush lawn, unfettered with weeds - but something tells me that my pasture looks just as green from a distance, and honey, you can't make wishes on boring old grass.