~ The House of Misery
My children both have the flu. The certifiable kind, where the doctor swabs the inside of your nose and comes back 10 minutes looking like he feels very sorry for you. It's been really rough. Jeffery got sick first. On the way home from a birthday party he said he wasn't feeling well and had a headache. By the next morning his temp was 102, and later 103.4. We didn't take him to the doctor at first because every time I take the kids to the doctor I'm told "It's a virus, it will pass." Or something else I could've figured out pretty easily and without a $20 co-pay. But when Owen started displaying the same symptoms, and his temperature shot up to 105, we all went in. A 105 degree temperature scares me. And, so, the flu it is.
I am a bit at a loss for interesting stories this week, considering no one even wants to come near me. So far (and I hesitate to even type this) I have escaped unscathed. But people seem convinced that the germs are just riding around on me waiting to jump onto them. I don't know that there is any truth to that, but it does mean I've had very little interaction with anyone who isn't lethargic and curled up in a little ball on the couch. I just want my kids to feel better.
The baby seems to be doing just fine. She moves around a little less than my boys did, or at least less violently. But she does stay active enough to reassure me when I need it. I remember when I was pregnant with Jeffery, I just wanted him out. I thought that once he was out I wouldn't have to worry as much because I would be able to see him and know he was okay. Now that entire idea is positively laughable. At least when they're tucked away inside me I can offer them some degree of shelter that I can't when they're out in the world.
When I haven't been racked with worry this week I've been re-reading this book that I love. It's by Catherine Newman, and titled Waiting for Birdy: a year of frantic tedium, neurotic angst, and the wild magic of growing a family. I bought it in 2005, when it first came out and I was pregnant with Owen. Not that I remotely qualify as a book reviewer, but I definitely recommend it. There are so many things in there that it's like she's able to put into words how I feel, as a mother of a small child with another on the way. It makes me laugh like very few books can.
Well, that's my week. I hope the next is a bit healthier!