Ok, not really...

I woke up this morning, and determined that I'm dying. N swears I'm no where near death, but I'm not convinced. I've either strained some muscles in my back, or one of my kidneys quit. He laughed at me when I told him these were the possibilities, and yet I was drinking a Coke. If it were my kidney, I'm sure Coke would be JUST what the doctor ordered. Either way, he determined that it was not, in fact, my kidney, and that I've simply strained my back. Great! Regardless, I feel like someone kicked my ass last night while I was sleeping, with a couple of hard kidney shots just for good measure. Apparently, I've been sleep-fighting all week, because I kicked and punched N yesterday morning when he tried to climb back into bed. So, whoever is picking fights with me in my dreams, I surrender. Now excuse me while I wait for my loving husband to bring me some muscle relaxers.

Edit: Of course, the kids can SENSE that I am having trouble moving, and therefore are taking full advantage of the situation.