Here we are, two whole weeks into the school year, and already our household has been hit by its first bug. I'll warn any of you living nearby, its a whopper. It all started last week, when my oldest son woke up complaining of a stomach ache and headache.
Mind you he has a knack for falling ill right around the time he needs to leave for school. Then, like a faith healing in action, he miraculously takes a turn for the better when he hears the car pulling away. So being the sympathetic (but not born yesterday) mom that I am, I promptly sent him to school anyway.
Later that day, when a routine visit to the allergist led to a throat culture and the dreaded Strep diagnosis, those all-too-familiar pangs of guilt set in. And as living proof that karma does exist, my head began throbbing the very same afternoon. One week, a ruptured eardrum, and a self-diagnosed case of the flu later, I'm just now able to muster up the energy to type.
It wouldn't have been so bad if I were the only one down. But ours is a generous family, and over the course of the last seven days each of my children passed this little bug down to the next in line. It even took down my husband.
This was, of course, in direct violation of The Pack. You see, long, long ago, along with love and honor, we pledged never to be sick at the same time. At the time we had a surprisingly realistic vision of children running around the house unhindered by the likes of adult supervision. Lets just say it was ugly. That's why, in our 15+ years of marriage, The Pact has only been broken once -- that is until this week.
While my husband and I tried to take turns being the grownup, there were still too many times when we were both down for the count. And that's when our ghoulish nightmare came to pass, with amazing accuracy I might add..
When I finally assessed the damage, reality hit like a ton of bricks. Looks like there was ice cream for breakfast (possibly dinner too) with leftovers on the counters. Snack wrappers were scattered here and there. It was kind of hard to see exactly how many because they were being hidden by the dirty clothes. Oh and then there was the Gatorade spill on the carpet being conveniently soaked up by the cracker crumbs. Needless to say, I was shocked into recovery.
So here I am today, trying to wade through the mess, afraid of what I might come across next. All the while I'm having flashbacks to those sick days when I was young. My mom bringing me soup, crackers and ginger ale. And me, able to just lay in bed until I got better.
Ahh...those were the days. Nowadays all I can say is, "I WANT MY MOMMY!"