sick

My Mom came out to visit last week and she wound up rearranging her flight back because Owen & Oona both got struck down by the swine flu. I was so grateful I could have cried, yeah Mom! I had 3 houses to clean this week but the one lined up for tomorrow has been rescheduled since the woman is pregnant, I emailed her about my sick kids because I didn't want to be the swine version of typhoid Mary, so we're on for next Tuesday unless I suddenly get sick. Cleaning these house I realize that if I was to describe myself in one word it would probably be fixer. I love to fix things, try to make things better, it probably explains why I'm going into nursing and my compulsion to learn things, so I can know how to fix it myself. I cleaned for this older Mother and son on Tuesday, the son smokes A LOT, when I walk in I feel like I'm entering a bar. But they are so nice and the Mom is so darn grateful for the work I do, she said I was a superb cleaner and worth every darn penny. She was about to hug me when I left but just squeezed my shoulder instead. I would have hugged her but she has fibromyalgia and I didn't want to hurt her. Oh, my heart swelled. I think how genuinely grateful I am for when I get positive feedback from the people I clean for. Yeah, I'm not changing the world but I'm happy that they're happy and it's much better than being in some corporate job where professional relations can make getting positive feedback so, well, weird and stressful and bureaucratic -ugh!

Owen has been back in school since Wednesday (he was putting his books away in his locker and a classmate ran over and gave him a hug, awww) and I think Oona can go back tomorrow but even with my Mom's help those two have sucked the life out of me. They're over their illness but still sort of tired and whiny and add to it my Mom being here, does anyone else's children act up when extended family is visiting? Last night Toby stopped over while we carved Funkins (I had such high expectations but the funkins aren't so fun) Owen flippped out over having to finish his homework; he ran into a corner and said he was going to strangle himself as he placed the back of a chair against his throat. I was like, is he being overdramatic? or genuinely experiencing suicidal ideation at 7? or is he really that fed up with grammar homework? I feel so ill equipped to handle their meltdowns, and they act up so much with me. Everyone will say they're fine until I walk into the room. I don't know you here the palaver about how kids let loose with those they can trust the most but then I often wonder if I have some bizarre malevolent force the unleashes the inner Chucky in my children. When I picked him up at school today he was great, until we walked in the front door; then he was alternately railing at me for being the worst Mom ever, whining for my help and bawling over the slightest provocation. I took an hour nap just to recover.