Feeling Like a Million Bucks...Or Not

The dreaded day has come: Mom is sick, and Dad is in charge of all three kids. Ever since having Charlotte I have been anxious about this day. I don't think it's the truly terrifying flu (I've had that one--I shudder to think of what it would mean for our family), but it sure feels like the beginning stages, and I am pretty much down for the count.

Chills? Check.

Hot flashes? Check.

Achy, sore muscles, joints, and bones? Check.

Inflamed throat? Check.

Praise the good Lord above that Stephen was able to do some clever maneuvering with his schedule and get this afternoon off so that I can mope around in bed and moan and think murderous thoughts toward the virus infecting my body. (Praise also belongs with those who helped him with his schedule at school, the science department secretary in particular. Tina, you're the bomb dot com.) I was doing my darndest to keep up with the kids today, but by about noon, it was evident things were headed downhill. Too bad, since Jack and Baylor are both in beautifully compliant and cheerful moods.

We'll just ignore the fact that, while I was curled up in the fetal position upstairs this afternoon, both of them got into the desk drawer and strewed thumb tacks everywhere, as well as tiptoed into the kitchen and helped themselves to a box of graham crackers. Also, one of them (I'm blissfully unaware as to which one) felt the need to climb onto the end table in the living room.

What a special talent!

I'm thankful for a kind, loving husband with a flexible schedule. I'm thankful for my sister, the goddess, and her husband, the goofball (just kidding, JoJo!), who are, as I type this, helping Stephen take all three kids on a walk in our unseasonably warm weather. I'm thankful it's not worse. Seriously, Stephen and I know worse. When we studied in England we both came down with the real-honest-to-goodness flu and were miserable to the max for a solid week. And then it took another week or so to regain our strength. Keep in mind that classes, deadlines, and papers didn't slow down for us. It was a trying time. Just ask my roommate. She braved the possibility of contracting our illness and cheerfully put up with our incessant pleas to put us out of our misery.

No, kidding, it wasn't that bad.

But really, it was.

So lesson learned: It's not as bad as it could be, and I have lots of fantastic help. Here's hoping the rest of you can avoid the end-of-the-season bug that is sure to sweep the States with a vengeance. And if you think of it, send lots of love and chicken noodle soup my way, kay?