Last Thursday, the boys and I each received a Flu Mist. I have a hate-hate relationship with flu vaccines and had sworn off getting one this year, but while at the pediatrician with the boys, I felt guilty saying "No" when offered one. On the way home, the three of us took bets on who would stay the most well. Jack was certain he would "win" and win he most definitely has. He and Tom seem impervious to anti-flu treatments. Shot, Mist, whatever... Doesn't affect them. I, on the other hand, get sick every damn year from this attempt at responsibility, hence my swearing off of one this fall. Fortunately, I was not struck with the vicious fever and chills (that left me sore!) that plagued me last year, but I have felt low-grade cold-like since Thursday. I am not getting a flu vaccine next year. You heard it here first.

This has not been made better by the fact that on Friday, Oliver developed a fever and still has it. A high one. He feels like ass, missed a long-anticipated playdate on Sunday and has stayed home from school for the past two days. I suspect we'll be hanging out again here at home tomorrow. My poor guy has been riddled with spiky fevers in the middle of every night which, if you do the simple math, means neither of us have slept worth a damn.

In fact, round about 2am this morning, Ol toddled in to say, "I have something I weally need to ask you." "Oliver," I said, "are you sure it needs to be asked now?" "Yes! When can I have a playdate with that boy from my Lego camp class last summer? I fink his name was Caleb?" Ohmahgah.

Cat is still peeing red but is improving. Tom is an excellent dispenser of pills to cats, so I'm grateful. I am blowing my nose to beat sixty which is exceedingly ironic given that it also feels tightly packed with rolls of gauze and actually toted a box of Kleenex to both parent-teacher conferences T and I had today.

We did have a successful little Halloween party full of friends, cookies, a piñata and crafts. Ol was on a real up when he and Jack discovered my "cake decorations" box while I was walking a friend to the door. Eight pounds of black sugar later and I hustled them into a bath which immediately turned gray. Ah well. Happy kids.