After a whole day of little more than a badly running nose and a light cough, Sam threw up right before falling asleep again tonight. This time, luckily, I was sitting right next to him, bowl in hand, when it happened. Now I just wish I could convince him of the comfort value of a rinsing one's mouth with water after throwing up.

I still don't think he's really that ill; honestly, he's probably healthier than either of us at the moment. I woke up this morning with my own sore throat, so I'm hoping to fend off the dread disease for as long as I can. At least I made it through tonight's class, so I'm essentially done teaching for the semester; all I have to do now is write the final exam for both my classes. (Well, and grade them when they've been taken. I'm not a complete slacker.)

I'm also praying that the illness runs its course quickly in this family. We leave next Thursday for Eric's family, and I really don't want to have to stress over exposing a chemo patient to Eric's bronchitis or whatever the heck Sam has. In fact, if Eric doesn't show visible signs of improvement by this weekend, I'm going to nag him about getting some kind of antibiotics or some such treatment. Normally, I'd say that letting the illness run its course is fine, but none of us are immuno-compromised at the moment.

But these are worries for later. For all I know, everybody will wake up in smashingly good health tomorrow.Not exactly in accordance with my luck this year, but one never knows.

I've decided what my least favorite part of this teaching gig is: the evaluations. How nerve-wracking, to hand over some bubble sheets to the students, ask them to rate me, and then walk away with fingers crossed! I've always hated evaluations of any kind, even when I'm sure I've been performing up to par; I tend to take things personally, even when I know that they weren't meant to be taken so. It was a given that this was going to be hard for me, and I'm still sitting here, wondering what the students wrote.

I know that the class was harder than they'd anticipated it would be. That's not my fault; the textbook (which I didn't choose) didn't match the course description in the catalog. I did my best to make the course material as digestible as possible for them, but I know that frustration was a major factor for them. In the end, grades were rather good, but most of them were pretty tense about it. Will that be reflected in how they evaluated me?

Gah! It's not about me! These evaluations are supposed to be helpful for when I move on to teach other classes; it's not supposed to be an ego boost or crush. Am I being irrational by viewing it as such? Am I the only teacher who gets wound up about this? When I was a student, and on the other side of the evaluation sheet, I know that I didn't even think about the teacher ever seeing the scores. I was always brutally honest. Now I'm hoping my students have a little more tact than I did.

How silly, to get upset over this. I worry too much for good mental health, I realize. I find it funny that major issues can frequently blow right past me without me giving them a second thought, but little stuff like this can practically incapacitate me emotionally.

Speaking of little things that bug me, the college has invited me (by way of posters on the wall - very personal, you know) to three different holiday parties. Three parties, on three different days, at a college where the vast majority of the faculty is adjunct and rarely on campus, and when do they schedule all three parties? Midday. I suppose that I'm the only one with small children who might have daytime duties. Well, they can suit themselves; Sam is coming with me to whichever parties I decide to attend. two of the parties are potlucks; if they want my food (and it's darn good food, if I do say so myself), then they'll deal with my child. He's relatively well-behaved in situations like these, so I have faith that if anybody actually says anything, it will be a simple objection to the very presence of a child, and I can tell them where to place their objections. Maybe they should rethink about when they schedule these activities, you know?

I'm not stressing about it, actually. It just irritated me tonight when I saw the third party being advertised on the wall of the lounge.

Also in the category of things that aren't stressing me: Rita keeps asking me if I've done any more shopping for the Greenbrier. We'll be there two days. How many outfits does she think I'll need? Even if I change for dinner both nights, that leaves me with only four outfits - five, if you count the one in which I'll leave the next morning. Does she think I live in rags and have no clothing suitable for the type of atmosphere embodied at the High and Mighty Resort? What are they going to do, lock me in my room if I wear last year's shoes?

I wonder if she wants me to buy a new bathing suit to wear in the Pool (capitalized to reflect the fact that it's supposedly a spectacular, wondrous thing. Seriously; a tiled hole with water, but it's special).

Wow. I've moved into the realm of the slightly bitchy, haven't I? Sorry about that; it's late, and my babies are sick, both the big one and the little one. I'm tired, and I think it's past my bedtime. I get cranky when I'm tired; maybe Sam's not the only one who needs an afternoon nap.