My son has been sick for over a week. I took him to the doctor on Saturday and he was diagnosed with pneumonia (again) and a sinus infection (he is prone to them, even with a sinus rinse every day). Sigh.

Because he is also prone to gagging, the congestion and post-nasal crud he has can cause vomiting in a split second. One drip in the wrong spot down his throat and he’s heaving.

Since my new, amaze-bed has an adjustable base, he’s been sleeping with me and his dad for the last week. We can prop the head of the mattress up with the push of a button…you know, so his crud can drip properly and I don’t have to wash vomit-laden sheets. You’re welcome.

So, yeah…he’s been in our bed. Oh, hey, have I ever mentioned that I’m an insomniac?

He’s finally improving, but having him in my bed, just inches from my face, with his sinus-infected snoring and feverish shivering, plus the fact that bacterial infections are always scary for us, means that I haven’t had much sleep in the last seven nights. I’m exhausted. Talk to me wrong and I’ll burst into tears. Just try it.

This morning, my almost-teen daughter came downstairs to find me staring into space and sipping my coffee with one of our dogs, Daisy, next to me on the couch. I had just seen my reflection a few minutes prior. It wasn’t pretty. Let’s just say there was some epic bed-head going on.

My daughter sat down on the couch and asked, “Are you tired?”

I replied, “Yeah. I’m beat. Your brother has been keeping me awake, so last night I tried to sleep in his bed, but it’s all springy, which is fine when you’re 45 pounds, but I AM SO NOT 45 pounds. I’ll be drinking coffee all day to stay awake and tonight? Well, tonight he has to go back to his room no matter what. I have GOT to get some sleep!”

A few minutes passed. I watched the news, sipped more coffee and we both petted Daisy, who was still laying between us on the couch.

Then Daisy yawned.

And, my daughter again asked, “Are you tired?”

This time I replied, “Wait, when you asked me earlier if I was tired, were you talking to the dog?”

Yeah, that’s right.

She’s so lucky that I didn’t burst into tears.

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The clock is ticking, but there is no sound. It’s not like the clock that stood in my grandmother’s living room, chiming the day away in fifteen minute increments. Tick-tock, ding-dong, ding-dong.

It’s a clock with glowing numbers that stares back at me from my husband’s nightstand, jumping minute by minute into the next hour and then into the next day. The red digits cut through the silence, loudly reminding me of the sleep I do not get.

The dog’s collar jingles from the hallway and she enters my room; her keen senses tell her I’m awake. Maybe a walk, she thinks. “Not yet” I whisper and pat her head.

I rise and tiptoe out of the bedroom and the young dog follows. I can hear my son snoring and see the glow of my daughter’s charging cell phone bouncing off of the overhead light. I walk slowly down the creaking steps and shuffle to the kitchen where I reach for the timer on the coffeepot. Click. I turn it on long before its timer is set to brew.

I stretch. I bend. I yawn. I feel the cold tile beneath my bare feet and I shiver until the chill has vanished. I lean on the counter and tap my fingers. I wait.

When the coffee is ready, I hold the warm mug in both hands and plop down on the couch. The dog curls up next to me and as she drifts off and dreams of chasing squirrels, I look up to see a green light shining from the cable box.

Tick-tock.

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On Tuesday night I went to bed early because I had to get up at 4:00am on Wednesday. After one-and-a-half Ambien, I was snoozing at, roughly, 9:30pm.

My husband was at a hockey game, so when I started getting ready to hit the hay (at 8:15…because that’s how long it takes a woman to actually move from the couch to bed when there are a dozen obstacles in her way…oh, for instance, like her 12 year old’s paper on kangaroo rats) I sent my husband a text telling him he had a short “honey-do” list waiting on the kitchen counter. It should be noted, that this is something I never do.

The list said:

1. Please fold the clothes in the dryer to the best of your ability.

2. Put the clothes from the washer into the dryer.

3. Throw the towels we use for the dogs into the washer, with lots of detergent, bleach and hot water.

When I woke, long before the sun had risen, I went to finish the laundry he had started, only to find that he had already done it. TWO loads of laundry were folded and stacked on the dining room table instead of just one.

When he got out of bed I asked, “What got into you?”

Which is when any impression that he had done it out of the goodness of his heart was vanquished when he replied, “Because, now you won’t be able to say that I haven’t done a single load of laundry in 16 years.”

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My husband comes from a family of poker players. A family gathering isn’t complete without a Texas Hold-’em tournament…or two.

One of their favorite games is Omaha Hi Low. If you’ve never played it, it can get confusing. Actually, even if you have played it, it can get confusing. Trust me.

What you need to know is that it can be a split game. It’s always good to have a high hand, because it can win the whole pot or half the pot if there is a low hand that qualifies. A qualifying low hand is one where all five of your cards are under an eight and the cards can’t be paired. The best low hand is Ace through 5, which can also be a high hand. See? Confusing.

Why am I explaining this to you? Because my last week has been one constant game of Omaha High Low. Let’s review, shall we?

Royal Flush – I find out that I was chosen to speak at the BlogHer ’11 Conference Community Keynote. This is like the blogging equivalent of the Oscar…or the Heisman…depending on what you’re into.

Three 3’s and two 2’s – I realize that being chosen to speak at the Community Keynote means that I have to stand onstage, in front of thousands of people. It appears to be a low hand, but it ends up winning the pot as a high one.

4 of a Kind – I am picked for three, big, exciting campaigns, two of which may benefit my local community.

Ace through 4…and a 9 – Two campaigns are set to be unveiled (and therefore WORKED ON) the week before I attend the BlogHer ’11 Conference where I will do my job on Twitter with 30,000 people following what I say and where I will speak (again with the thousands of people). Almost a low hand, but not quite.

Straight Flush – A friend of mine, who knows I have been either sleeping on our couch or on top of six pillows because our 30 year old mattress hurts my back, tells me she’s going to make it her mission to win me a new bed. AND SHE DOES! I had to promise to give up liquor and Ambien, so you KNOW I want it bad.

2 through 6 – I check email only to find out that my daughter’s summer camp starts in three days. Two days after her softball tournament and one day after a big event I’m planning for a sponsor. Camp involves laundry, last minute supplies, packing for a week and driving her out of town. All while I’m doing that Twitter stuff, and my regular job and planning these three campaigns. What? Oh, I’m going to a conference next week? The one where people fret over what they’ll wear and how good their business cards look and making sure your shoes are stylish AND comfortable. Oh, and I’m speaking? And, there’s stuff to fill out for that? And, I may want to get my roots done, and wax my eyebrows and have you seen my feet? There needs to be a pedicure.

Flush – My daughter’s softball team wins their league championship and the tournament.

2 through 5…and a 7 – The games are in 100 degree heat, my old dog gets overheated on her walk, sees a trash truck (which she is terrified of), falls over and pees all over herself, my son gets a booger and it makes him vomit and then I trip over the reins of one of those horse heads on a stick.

Ace through 5 – I realize that despite being so busy that my head feels like it’s going to pop off, I will live through all of it, see good friends along the way, experience something I have only dreamed about, then sleep in a fabulous new bed.

No matter how you look at it, I win.

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