Christmas (cough cough)
How was our Christmas? It was okay. See, much, much sickness infested our house.
Nobody escaped unscathed.
It the week leading up to Christmas week, we all had colds. Inconvenient but not terribly tragic. We got over them. Alas, Lorelei's morphed into a painful ear infection, so I took her to the pediatrician. Unlike Charlotte's terrible ear infections, Lorelei has about a 50/50 success rate in overcoming them without antibiotics. So, we filled the prescription and decided to wait and see. Happily, she came through without needing the meds, but alas, another cold hit her. A worse one.
Then Chris got the flu.
On Christmas Eve.
Yes, we all got flu shots. And yes, we're aware that this year's shots missed some widespread strains.
Chris was one sick guy. Christmas Day was spent bedridden as he battled fevers, chills, aches, congestion, dizziness, etc. Ditto for the next day and the next day.
A week later, he still feels shitty but is on the mend.
Meanwhile, Lorelei infected her sister, Nana (who has surgery tomorrow--this is an unpleasant cold), me, and Papa (who denied he had any illness, as that would show WEAKNESS).
I don't mean to be whiny here (or maybe I do), but after sleepless night (Lorelei) after sleepless night (Charlotte), my own cold, and all the household tasks that Christmas and a house full of ill people required, I was . . . edgy. Running on fumes, and more than one person seemed surprised I wasn't rah-rahing in effing perkiness on top of it all. I felt shitty, but aside from Lorelei (now mostly better but freaking TWO) and my dad (utterly useless unless a hammer or drill is involved), I was the most healthy person. So, I toiled and toiled and finally got a bit snippy when someone questioned how I was preparing dinner, or why I wasn't jumping up and down in joy as I prepared to take both children to the grocery store (the people at home were too ill [or useless] to care for them) to prepare a dinner I could care less about.
By Sunday night, we wisely ordered pizza.
Because I still feel like crap, I'm still in a bit of a self-pitying mode. I'm self-pityingly convinced that I could've beaten this cold way faster if I had been able to get some sleep, SIT DOWN, nap, or maybe have had someone make ME tea. I'm not suggesting anyone was malingering; I'm just annoyed at the circumstances. I recently read somewhere that motherhood has much in common with waitressing. It's true. Especially when you have a house full of invalids. "Nobody is doting on ME," I muttered to myself (oh, the martyred self-pity! yes, I hear it), filling the tea kettle for the 85th time. Fetching, fetching, fetching. Blankets, meds, favorite dolls, remotes, tea, water, snacks, fleeces, thermometers, tissues, and on and on and on. Taking temperatures, heating soup, going out to buy more soup (and Theraflu and Dayquil and Mucinex). I longed for bed and being ALONE. (With an official Fetcher.)
I know, I know. We're SO lucky that we all got Lorelei's cold, not Chris's truly awful flu. This is where I'm supposed to pretend to be grateful, so you all don't think I'm as bitchy as I apparently am.
[cat hiss]
We're all just tired of feeling like shit, and I'm feeling robbed that my few days of vacation time are being filled with illness instead of leisure and restoration. And the idea of tearing down Christmas is freaking daunting, my house looks like a tornado tore through, the sink is full of dishes, laundry is overflowing, and . . . the dog needs a walk. I can't help but think, I've been working my arse off for the past week! How is all this work still in front of me? How will I accomplish it all, when even plugging in my laptop across the room seems like a huge chore?
Boo hoo.
Anyway, Chris DID get some good photos of Christmas Eve, before things really tumbled downhill, so we'll post a link to those soon.
In the meantime, I think my latest cup of Theraflu has given me the best boost it can, and I have a big house to get into order.
(UPDATE to my whiny blog post: Mom's surgeon won't allow her to go under the knife tomorrow with her cold, fearing infection after surgery or respiratory complications during anesthesia. This means her trip to Maryland at the end of January [for Charlotte's princess birthday extravaganza] is cancelled. NOW can I mope without judgment? Crap crap crap.)
Nobody escaped unscathed.
It the week leading up to Christmas week, we all had colds. Inconvenient but not terribly tragic. We got over them. Alas, Lorelei's morphed into a painful ear infection, so I took her to the pediatrician. Unlike Charlotte's terrible ear infections, Lorelei has about a 50/50 success rate in overcoming them without antibiotics. So, we filled the prescription and decided to wait and see. Happily, she came through without needing the meds, but alas, another cold hit her. A worse one.
Then Chris got the flu.
On Christmas Eve.
Yes, we all got flu shots. And yes, we're aware that this year's shots missed some widespread strains.
Chris was one sick guy. Christmas Day was spent bedridden as he battled fevers, chills, aches, congestion, dizziness, etc. Ditto for the next day and the next day.
A week later, he still feels shitty but is on the mend.
Meanwhile, Lorelei infected her sister, Nana (who has surgery tomorrow--this is an unpleasant cold), me, and Papa (who denied he had any illness, as that would show WEAKNESS).
I don't mean to be whiny here (or maybe I do), but after sleepless night (Lorelei) after sleepless night (Charlotte), my own cold, and all the household tasks that Christmas and a house full of ill people required, I was . . . edgy. Running on fumes, and more than one person seemed surprised I wasn't rah-rahing in effing perkiness on top of it all. I felt shitty, but aside from Lorelei (now mostly better but freaking TWO) and my dad (utterly useless unless a hammer or drill is involved), I was the most healthy person. So, I toiled and toiled and finally got a bit snippy when someone questioned how I was preparing dinner, or why I wasn't jumping up and down in joy as I prepared to take both children to the grocery store (the people at home were too ill [or useless] to care for them) to prepare a dinner I could care less about.
By Sunday night, we wisely ordered pizza.
Because I still feel like crap, I'm still in a bit of a self-pitying mode. I'm self-pityingly convinced that I could've beaten this cold way faster if I had been able to get some sleep, SIT DOWN, nap, or maybe have had someone make ME tea. I'm not suggesting anyone was malingering; I'm just annoyed at the circumstances. I recently read somewhere that motherhood has much in common with waitressing. It's true. Especially when you have a house full of invalids. "Nobody is doting on ME," I muttered to myself (oh, the martyred self-pity! yes, I hear it), filling the tea kettle for the 85th time. Fetching, fetching, fetching. Blankets, meds, favorite dolls, remotes, tea, water, snacks, fleeces, thermometers, tissues, and on and on and on. Taking temperatures, heating soup, going out to buy more soup (and Theraflu and Dayquil and Mucinex). I longed for bed and being ALONE. (With an official Fetcher.)
I know, I know. We're SO lucky that we all got Lorelei's cold, not Chris's truly awful flu. This is where I'm supposed to pretend to be grateful, so you all don't think I'm as bitchy as I apparently am.
[cat hiss]
We're all just tired of feeling like shit, and I'm feeling robbed that my few days of vacation time are being filled with illness instead of leisure and restoration. And the idea of tearing down Christmas is freaking daunting, my house looks like a tornado tore through, the sink is full of dishes, laundry is overflowing, and . . . the dog needs a walk. I can't help but think, I've been working my arse off for the past week! How is all this work still in front of me? How will I accomplish it all, when even plugging in my laptop across the room seems like a huge chore?
Boo hoo.
Anyway, Chris DID get some good photos of Christmas Eve, before things really tumbled downhill, so we'll post a link to those soon.
In the meantime, I think my latest cup of Theraflu has given me the best boost it can, and I have a big house to get into order.
(UPDATE to my whiny blog post: Mom's surgeon won't allow her to go under the knife tomorrow with her cold, fearing infection after surgery or respiratory complications during anesthesia. This means her trip to Maryland at the end of January [for Charlotte's princess birthday extravaganza] is cancelled. NOW can I mope without judgment? Crap crap crap.)
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