My posting the past week or so has been shoddy and sparse. I'm aware of this.
My excuse is illness. Not my illness, thank goodness, but that of our three kiddos.
While I was away a couple weekends ago, Adelaide started complaining of headache, began running a fever, got a barking cough, runny nose, and lost her voice.
Do you see what happens when I leave? Everything just falls apart. Because you know no one ever gets sick around here when I'm home (I hope the sarcasm really came through on that last statement).
Her fever stuck around for nearly a week, and in the meantime, the boys came down with whatever this bug is. Blogging becomes a little difficult when a two- and a four-year-old feverish boy insist on draping their burning little bodies across you anytime you're stationary.
Cade has been especially guilty of this; he's regressed in age by at least a year, wailing anytime I have the indecency to detach him from me, sucking on his fingers all the time, and rubbing his face all over me, seeking comfort. He has also simultaneously been the best at coughing into his elbow and the one child who has coughed into my open mouth several times over the past few days. And coughing 'til you puke? He has it down. The kid is talented.
I have no idea how Derek and I have avoided contracting this nastiness thus far, and have been hoping that somehow we would manage to escape relatively unscathed.
But then Derek texted me: He's been really dizzy this morning; an early symptom our children exhibited. Crap.
I made it through most of a strangely productive morning before the headache and nausea set in. Double-crap.
Father and Mother cannot get sick at the same time. They just can't. Because guess what? Small children do not care one iota about how you feel. Example: A conversation I had with Atticus roughly one hour ago. "Mom, why are you leaned over like that?"
"I don't feel very well, Bud."
"Oh. I'm hungry."
Pray for us.