Okay, so my outlook on the universe has improved.

Not for any particular reason. Just that, as I was driving home from my doctor's appointment last night, I started to see the humor in things. It can take a while sometimes. It struck me as ridiculously funny that not only do I work in senior programs, but I've managed to get a disease typical of that population. It also seemed like a sitcom that Ragsy should get sick at the same time and I'd be left ranting that, even when I have a debilitating and painful illness, I still can't get a break a la Homer Simpson.

Plus, having my husband scream "No! Not the POX!" every once in a while can't help but make me laugh. So, even though I have a pretty constant headache and my calves are tightening ever more, somehow things are good again. For now.

Since I can't exactly do a whole lot of work, nor do I particularly want to, I'm trying to use this as an opportunity to relax, be a couch potato and also reorganize my house, which looks like a nuclear bomb hit it. Since I schedule 30 minutes a day to clean and my husband does not without prodding, there's crap everywhere. I'd also like to do some gentle exercise to get my calves to loosen.

Plus, I've got more discipline issues with Ragsy. It doesn't take long, does it? Last night was the first time I've put him to bed since last Thursday. He'd gotten used to his dad's more lenient method of reading to him, then letting him play until he's thoroughly exhausted, then turning out the light for a quick conk out. Unfortunately for him, mommy doesn't work that way. I'm all about the cuddles and the playing for a while, but once the clock hits 7:45, it's books away, lights out and we have calm quiet time until sleep takes us, preferably with me next to the bed instead of in it. With the eventual goal of being able to leave the room entirely, of course, but with minimal crying and screaming.

Well, Ragsy hasn't been used to me being the disciplinarian lately. I've been the one who shows up magically after a long absence to play savior and make him happy. Also, because I couldn't even sit up well for a couple of days after I started to get better, I let him watch hours of TV for a day and a half. (Yes, yes - bad mother for letting my kid watch so much Fraggle Rock, but I'd like to see anyone get over a three- or five-day migraine where they feel like their eye was being dug out with a rusty spoon with just loads of energy.)

So, when last night came and we were done reading, the screaming started. For about forty minutes. After the first ten, Ragsy shoved me off the bed. So I sat next to it. He kept shoving, so finally I left after turning on the nightlight. This did not go over well. He came out, shrieking and held up his palm to ward me off while he looked for daddy. But daddy wasn't sympathetic and dammit, it was my night. So I calmly picked him up even though he was doing his best to get away, kissed him and whispered "night, night" over the shrieks, tried to rub his back and calm him down, only to be shoved right off the bed again. I left again, and this time when he came out to the hall and saw me coming to meet him, he threw himself on the floor in an all-out tantrum. Rinse. Repeat. Rinse. Repeat. Until finally, finally he pulled me to him, cuddled up to me and conked out.

We had planned to work on getting him to sleep on his own after I got better. But I think for a week or so, we'll need to work on getting him to understand that bedtime means sleep time and that he needs to listen not just to daddy, but to mommy, too. Amazing how quickly you lose that edge with a little one.