I wish there was a safe, sanitary way to show you how miserably sick I am right now.

About four months ago, when Isaiah was getting tested for various allergies, I decided to take the plunge and finally pin down what exactly has me wheezing and asthma-ing all over myself at various points in the spring. These series of tests were roughly 30 years overdue.

C`est la vie.

I got them done.

The laundry list of “try not to eat this, don’t eat this, and EAT THIS ONLY IF YOU HAVE A EPIPEN IN YOUR BACKPOCKET” was formidable, but I got this jist:

Patient: Lisa Factora-Borchers
Diagnosis: Semi-annual death march begins in mid-April of each year and concludes early June; re-commences in September and concludes early October.
Treatment: Move to warmer climate, pump the ‘roids, or bitch a lot to spouse or anyone who will listen.

I opted for the last treatment plan.

My head feels like it’s underwater and my entire sinus cavity is stuffed with God-only-knows what. Luckily, Isaiah is as merry as can be and Nick, immune to 99% of germs, escapes unscathed.

Which leaves lonely little me, couched by trees and whatever is released into the air when the temperatures suddenly drop and the leaves begin to die.

Oh, how I used to love jacket weather.

This sickness marks the end of summer (that and the fact I am writing this in sweatshirt and a blanket draped over my legs) and the beginning of football season, holiday anticipation, leaf blowing rants, and caramel coated anything I can get my hands on. September marks the time of year when I peel off the tops of my autumn clothing bins and squeal like it’s Christmas. This is also the first autumn with Isaiah.

Speaking of everyone’s favorite Gerber Giant, the little ball of dynamite is growing unbelievably well. Last week, I walked into his room once I heard him roar awake from his nap and stopped short when I saw him smiling, SITTING UP, in his crib. He was happily grinning at me, as if to say, “Look, Mom, I can sit up on my own and soon enough I’ll be able to catapult myself off this mattress and onto the floor!”

His strength is not to be underestimated. When he wakes up from his nap, I shit you not, the entire house kinda shakes for a few seconds. It’s because he raises his legs as high as he can into the air and SLAMS THEM INTO THE TOP OF THE CRIB BARS. I know, you must be wondering, “But, doesn’t that hurt his feet?”

APPARENTLY NOT because he does this ALL THE TIME. It sounds like there is a monster coming out of its cage and, with its beefy arm, slams its mighty fist into the cave wall causing small tremors of fear throughout the mountain people. The mountain people are Nick and myself. That’s what it sounds like when he awakens. He does this so often that it doesn’t phase us anymore and the phrase, “Is that the little monster trying to get out of his cave?” slips off the tongue so easily now.

So, other than myself being sidelined by leaves and Isaiah turning into a gentle monster, Nick is busy busy busy with his new MBA program. Similar to a cave man, he disappears into our office for many hours and only emerges to use the bathroom and eat. “MUST EAT. FEED ME WOMAN.”

Nick also won our weight loss challenge. He lost 24lbs. I lost 8. That’s a walloping, I know. But, the challenge continues for me. I’ll let you know once I reach my mark. Nick reached his goal of running a half-marathon and losing a bunch of LBs. My goal was to continue breastfeeding, up my exercise, and not lose my sanity.

Missions accomplished.