B-Ill-T

I’m beginning to believe that my entire household will never ever be well again at the same time.  Within the past 4 weeks, everyone has had a cold then a stomach virus then another cold.  It’s been a delightful sandwich of diarrhea/vomit nestled between 2 moist layers of mucous spiced with sinus issues brought about by extremely mercurial weather.  To top it off, for Thanksgiving the little people caught something else.  I don’t know what it’s been but it’s involved copious amounts of “the snots” and fever accompanied by extreme clinginess and loss of appetite.  The adults seem to be immune to this one.

It’s been miserable: the awakenings, less patience for stuff like poo under my fingernails or Felix’s perpetual infatuation with the filthiest/most dangerous parts of the house, the nose wiping with corresponding howling as if I’m trying to etch the snot off with battery acid, the snot Rorschach nose/face prints on every fabric surface in the house .

I’m trying to be positive.  Maybe we’re getting all the sickness over and done with at once so we can enjoy the rest of the holidays.  Only my luck isn’t that good.  What’s truly concerning is how badly the illness + the holiday might impact Stella.  There has been lots of extra hollering at the house which is disheartening.

I have to be positive.  I have to believe that once we get her well and fed1, she’ll go back to normal and be excited to see Ms. T and her friends.  She talks about them a lot, so I have to believe she misses them.

I do have one thing I am happy about:  Crispi’s back in town for the next month or so.  She and “Grampaw” came over for dinner last night, braving the snots.  They were both put to work immediately as Stella’s personal readers.  Crispi had never read Maurice Sendak’s “In the Night Kitchen.”  That’s a favorite right now.  Crispi’s reaction was the stuff of legends.  Any of you who know that book understand; between the nekkid little kid, the Hitleresque bakers, and the rather phallic milk bottle, “strange” doesn’t begin to cut it.  Poor Stella probably didn’t understand why her sweet little book about “cooking” turned into something so hilarious.

Let the wild rumpus of reading commence!

Let the wild rumpus of reading commence!

1 The big one won’t eat.  I know when one isn’t well, food can be a tough sell.  She’s barely eaten anything in days.  We’ve finally gotten desperate and started offering truly wholesome stuff like ice cream and candy canes.  Nada.  Felix, on the other hand has decided that chocolate pudding pie is his new favorite food group.  Who’s the worst mother ever?  Why that’s me, that’s who!

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About larva225

Working mom. Is there any other kind? Geologist. Nerd.
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