A mid-summer, mid-season, mid-holiday head cold. Oh fucking joy.
Husband and I both.
On Boxing Day, after a gentle, lovely, but busy Christmas, we were only too pleased to be lounging around - reading books and eating chocolate and playing with new toys and suchlike.
Today, the novelty has severely worn off.
I get why some friends deactivate their Facebook accounts this time of year. If you're not having the Best Holiday Ever then the endless feed of Plett/Llandudno/sundowners/poolside/cocktails/roadtrips/bikinis can really get you down.
What's not getting me down however, are my children. My god they've been amazing. For sure there's a bit of cabin fever ... and I feel badly that we're not on the beach or up the mountain or on the water or making meaningful family memories besides reading Little House on the Prairie and watching The Long Way Down (wait, I think those are family memories actually) ... but they seem completely happy to play with each other. New paddling pool, mermaid Barbies, bows and arrows, Lego, camping on the lawn and gathering 'winter stores', feeding ducks, and mainly - playing with each other.
We may be sniffling and sneezing and feeling sorry for ourselves, but they're having a summer holiday. The old-fashioned way.