When I tell Shmuel that I want to host, he thinks I’m a few flowers short of a full bouquet

OF

course, Yitzi is complaining about both ears, plus a cold. At this point, I don’t even call Dr. Plotzker, I just yank the drops he gave me last time out of the cabinet and administer them like an old pro. Which I am.

Why do my kids have such weak immune systems? I do not know. Yeeees, their charts are up to date, yesss, they get vitamins daily. And yeeees, I am behind at work and cannot afford to miss another day. Sometimes, I feel like the boy who cried wolf when I message the office that I need to work from home with a sick child, and then I’m like, wait, no, my kids really are sick.

See, I’m so tired, I forget my own life.

I’m scared to check on Yitzi in the morning, but baruch Hashem he seems fine, and he heads off to kindergarten happy as a clam. I, on the other hand, can’t seem to rub the sleep from my very gritty, sand-filled eyes.

Shmuel looks a bit alarmed. I must look alarming. Wonderful.

“You okay, Chevs?”

“Perfect,” I say, my words only slurring slightly.

“Mhmmm. ’Kay, have a great day.”

“Y’too.”

I’m late getting in, and the first thing I notice in the office is a big box of doughnuts. Yaaay, Doughnut Day. That usually means we have a meeting of some sort, but hey, if there are doughnuts, sign me up. Sugar is exactly what my body needs to wake up.

“Boker tov.” I grin at Riki.

She raises any eyebrow. “You’re perky today.”

Ahh, the irony. “Doughnuts will do that to me.”

Chanita, our esteemed secretary, ushers all stragglers into Conference Room B.

Mr. Stern isn’t there yet, so I settle into a cushy chair — we definitely don’t have these up in my department — and reach for a Boston cream.

Riki licks a sprinkle off her lip. “Okay, so who’s sick this time?”

I stare at her. “How’d you know?”

She grins. “Whenever you wear a full face of makeup, I know you haven’t slept.”

Huh, people notice things. Who would’ve thought?