I was very hesitant to blog about what’s been going on here all week, because a Very Famous Blogger is having a similar experience and it’s so mommy-blogger and stuff that I figured hell, that’s boring, who wants to read about that?
But here’s the thing – it’s real, it’s happening, and nothing else has gone on because of it SO…
…OMG guys EVERYONE is sick. Everyone except me. Or, to put it more correctly, everyone including me is sick, but I’m the mommy so I can’t actually indulge in how sick I am.
Harry is the least sick. He’s got pityriases rosea, which looks horrible but doesn’t actually slow him down at all. He also has a small cut on his ankle. According to him, the cut in particular is very very serious, and isn’t getting the attention it deserves; to wit, I put a band-aid on it and told him to stop picking it so it could heal. And instead he picked it a whole lot, and then stuck his bloody gross ankle in my face at 7AM and whined because HIS CUT IS GETTING BIGGER, why am I refusing to be worried about his gangrenous foot?
Ron was very cranky all day Sunday, and had a four-hour nap on Monday. This from a kid who never naps. Monday night Hubs took Harry to taekwon-do and not five minutes after my help had walked out the door, poor Ron started vomiting. I was nursing at the time (who am I kidding, I’m always nursing, more on that later) so I tried to comfort him as best I could. He barfed in one spot, then started walking towards the bathroom. Still barfing. I told him to just stay put because at least he was standing on hardwood floor at the time, so he walked back to the first spot. Through the second spot. Still barfing. And as soon as the barf touched his feet he turned to find a new spot, and the whole time he was still barfing and… yeah. By the time he was done the living room was completely covered in vomit.
Did I mention that the smell or sound of someone vomiting makes ME sympathy-puke? Because there is that. I managed not to but it was a close-run thing.
Hubs started on Sunday complaining of cold, fever, and joint aches. Now, I love my husband very much but he does get the dreaded man-cold so I really didn’t pay much attention. Monday he dragged around the house and slept a lot, and I seethed because I didn’t feel well, either but damn it, I was awake! and baking muffins! and Taking Care of Business! But by Tuesday I was forced to concede that the poor man was actually sick. He alternately bundled up in multiple layers (including a toque) while jacking the heat to ridiculous levels or poured sweat while fanning himself like a character in Steel Magnolias suffering a hot flash. He was as white as a sheet and he suffered very vivid and anxiety-provoking dreams whenever he slept. (My personal favourite – a dream about meeting all the characters in Billy Joel’s Piano Man.)
This went on all week. We eventually figured out that ‘sleeplessness’ and ‘nervousness’ were side effects of the cold and flu pills I forced on him, so he stopped taking those… but he’s still got the fever, and now he’s added a wrenching bronchial cough to the proceedings, so he’s not out of the woods yet.
Baby G has a stuffy nose, and so all week needed to be held upright to sleep. Fortunately he never got so congested that he couldn’t nurse – quite the opposite in fact, he’s been nursing constantly, partly from hunger and partly for the comfort – but it means I have slept (dozed) sitting up all week with him cuddled in the crook of my arm and propped up by the nursing pillow. One night he was fussing a lot, and in my sleep-daze I hoisted him upright again to pat his back… he immediately cranked it up from ‘fussing’ to ‘screaming in panic’ and it took me a few seconds to realize that I had hoisted him alright – upside down. I figured it out when I tried to offer him a finger to suckle and I couldn’t find his mouth because what I thought was his head was actually his bum.
Last evening I thought we were finally coming out of the woods. Both kids had soup & grilled cheese sandwiches for supper, but they did eat them without complaint, and I got Baby G to sleep in his bassinette (!!) after his evening bath for the first time in days. Hubs felt well enough to get a mad junk food craving and headed out to bring some back. I was cautiously optimistic.
Then at 2AM Ron came in our room to tell me he threw up in his bed. Which he had. Because he’s a dear, he tried to clean it up himself before he came and got me. Because he’s not-quite-four, this was unsuccessful. So I stripped the bed and started the washing machine – yes, at 2AM, I’m not letting that stuff sit there, EW EW EW – and made him a bed on the couch. And then Baby G woke up for his feeding so I sat in the living room with him and Ron, and I sang some lullabies and thought everyone was settling down. Until a very quiet whispered voice said “Mama, I think I’m going to do it ag—BLART BARF GAG”.
Finally got Ron clean. Gave him some Gravol which calmed his stomach and knocked him out. Hubs dragged himself out of bed at 6:30 – unheard of for him – to try showering his chest cough and fever into submission. Harry reminded me that he has another belt test tonight for taekwon-do so one of us has to drive him into town for that right at suppertime.
Tomorrow, I am turning the TV on when I get up. AND I’M NOT TURNING IT OFF ALL DAY. Fuck you, universe. You win. The screen shall raise my children. I have laundry piled up everywhere, the cat is shedding furballs like some sort of mad bastard, we need groceries but what do I buy because no one wants to eat anything but grilled cheese sandwiches and canned soup, and all I want is two hours to myself to go see The Woman In Black but I can’t because Baby G needs to nurse every 90 minutes.
So how was your week?