There should be a law against mothers getting sick.

A law of nature. Of our biological composition. So that from the second we commence our 24-hour-a-day vocation of raising children from scary 104-feverish infants through whining-hormonal teenage years, we never experience a single lapse in energy.

Because this is what happens when Mommy actually gets sick and may lounge around on the living room lounge all day:

She neglects to inspect the bathroom for…

I missed my regular Tuesday Tale blog post. And it’s not as if I don’t have a tale to tell. It’s more that I’ve been riding a relentless wave of physical and emotional exhaustion.

Well, maybe there’s a tale in that, this wave that leaves me washed up on shore in frothing salty foam. In how I hired an aide for my mother after this last fall which has left her with a long painful healing process from contusions to the ribs. A lovely aide person really, with a wandering green eye, but…

The ortho nurse held out her open palm for us, displaying a tiny blue ring. To demonstrate its extraordinary flexibility, she squeezed it between her perfectly manicured salmon-pink nails. It could have been a tiny blue floaty for some tiny insect who might enjoy swimming in a pool.

She went on to explain that these tiny little blue "spacers" would be placed between my 8-year-old's teeth, to yes, create spaces to later fit his expander. He has a crossbite. (Google it. You'll wind up…