Yesterday, I woke up feeling okay. A little puny, but okay. I went to the gynecologist for my yearly checkup and while driving home, I suddenly felt like I had been hit by a truck.

I hadn’t- my car was okay, it was just me that felt terrible. I managed to get home, and I dashed through the living room, telling my husband the gynecologist appointment went fine, I have to have an ultrasound on Wednesday, and I suddenly feel sick and am going to bed.

And for four glorious hours, I slept. Until I woke up to a big kid fight. I got up and immediately was accosted by complaints. Flip said HelloKitty was being mean to Spidey and HelloKitty said Spidey was jumping on her bed, and, and, and. I was feeling woozy and a bit confused. My husband started telling me about all the people who had called and sent IMs. I sat down for a minute to try to sort all this information out, and gave up.

I IMed a friend who said something very wise. "If you’re upright," she said, "Everyone assumes you’re fine. Go back to bed." That may have been the single best piece of parenting advice I have ever been given.  I could look like death warmed over, but if I am standing or sitting, my kids and husband assume I’m okay, and start piling on. It’s not that they mean to pile on the problems, it’s that they are unused to dealing with everything themselves, so when I come back from the land of the sick, they want me to sort things back to normal.

So, I went back to bed. I woke up this morning feeling puny, but otherwise okay. And the feeling has held so far today, so I think I’ll make it. If I get that hit-by-a-truck feeling again, though, I’m off to bed.