Sick, sick, sick

Pretty much what I've been doing.

Hello, lovely readers.

If you've been wondering where I was all weekend (which I'm sure kept you up at night), I can tell you.  I'm sick.

I was hiding in bed, alternately sleeping and listening to M take care of the girls.

That's where I am now.  Except that M is work, and I'm avoiding getting my children up from their "nap."  They didn't sleep anyway.

I am surrounded by a very attractive halo of dirty tissues, empty vitamin water bottles, and sundry medical supplies.  I have my thermometer, I have empty bowl of soup (well known important medical tool), hand sanitizer, and antibiotics.

Oh yeah, we reached that point.  I've got the antibiotics.  Haven't taken them yet.  Can't decide if I'm willing to suffer the repercussions.  I handle antibiotics about as well as I handle entrenched bacteria.  That is to say, I don't.

Of course, I didn't get sick all by myself.  You don't get sick in a vacuum.  You get sick from having kids.

Filthy, germ infested monsters they are.  Giggling in their room, calling my name and jumping on the beds.  Covered in snot and just waiting to get me even sicker.

I knew I couldn't afford to be ill this winter, so I got us all flu shots.  Nobody in this house will be getting the flu.  So that's good.

Unfortunately, there are lots of non-flu viruses that are going around.  And this one, call it what you will, is a freakin' DOOZY.  Fevers, chills, the runny nose of doom, the aches and pains of a flu, a migraine that just won't quit, every single flu thing but the nausea.  And thanks to the post nasal drip I'm getting plenty of that anyway.

My lips are chapped, my face is pimply and gross, I might be getting bed sores... in short, my lovely readers, I am a freakin' MESS.  I am grosser than gross.

I've lost five pounds in three days.  And after my last eating adventure (damn you, lentil soup!) it looks like that trend might continue.

The laundry situation is dire.  The catbox is unclean.  Dishes have been unwashed for the better part of a week.

But yet, somehow, life must continue.

Somehow I must climb from my miserable little sick bed, wipe off my kids butts and noses (you caught the part where they were sick too, right?), and park them in front of the TV where we can all be miserable together.

They're holding up better than me.  DD seems completely oblivious of the croup that she has... AGAIN.  SI got the thing first, so she's pretty much better anyway.  M is miraculously unscathed.  I think he'll probably start showing symptoms as soon as we get into the car to go to Thanksgiving.

Oh, winter.  My old nemesis.  You think you've beaten me, but you're wrong.

You think you'll have me laid up through all the snow, through all the storms, through all the ice cold misery you can inflict, and that I'll waste away to nothing before the spring can come.

You are WRONG, winter.  WRONG.

I will defeat you.  I will get out of this bed, I will clean the damn laundry.  I will pack the suitcases.  I will make the meanest pumpkin pie you ever freakin' tasted.  And I will suck it up and be well until spring comes and my allergies kick in.

...that said, to my lovely readers and my friendly neighbors:
If you happen to find me passed out from fever while my children build megablock towers on my prone form...  If you see through the window that my mummified corpse has melded with the couch and is being used as a staging area for a toy feast that the grublings are preparing this holiday... if smell of illness and neglected cat droppings lures into my home just to check that everything is okay...  Please...

Just roll me back into bed and start a load of laundry?

Thanks.