There has been much coughing and sleeping and fever in our house over the last week or so. A lot of sleeping. Because to get through the coughing and fever, it's pretty important that you sleep. For me, that's all I can do when I'm sick. I take to my bed like a southern belle with the vapors. I want nothing other than that sweet space between Nyquil and coma. I love that space. Not all the time, of course. I'm no junkie. Well, not since I cut back on caffeine (whimper) but I'm not, I swear.
Unfortunately, trying to sleep with kids in the house, not so easy. My job for the past couple days, therefore, has been to stay OUT of the house. Because while *I* have had my flu shot, my kids haven't yet. And while they were sick and sniffly and coughing, they weren't feverish or achy. And that was a stage I had hoped to avoid. Which meant we had to avoid Scott, who was smacked upside down by some annoying little flu bug. So Scott was layed (laid? I never get that right) up in bed. He needed sleep. I knew he needed sleep. How did I know? Because my guy, who works until the job is done, no matter how long it takes, actually came home early and went to bed. Voluntarily. And stayed there for so many hours that they turned into days.
And so he slept. And I was out all day with two kids. Easy-peasy, right? Well, sure, except that those were the days that the skies opened up and spit on us. (Thanks a lot, Mother Nature. Right back atcha. ) No computer, other than my ipod and cell phone (hello twitter updates!) No work, because two kids are... um... well... let's just say I was a little tired at the end of the day. (Okay, fine, I passed out in my kids bed every night at 8pm. There, are you happy?) I got nothing done but keeping the kids alive and keeping my Sweet Baboo asleep in a different room. For days. I'm pretty sure that they skipped baths two nights in a row, but nobody actually complained. And now that we have a dog, we can blame a lot on the wet dog smell. (yay!)
And yesterday, the sun was shining, and my sweetie pie got up. He wasn't completely well, but he was definitely better. So laden with bottles of Robitussin, aspirin, and that nasty pink stuff you take to settle your stomach (I swear, I just totally blanked on the name - I have been losing random nouns from my memory for years), he went to work. And stayed all day. And ate dinner. And is officially on the mend.
Which means that today, my life got a little bit closer to normal.
Normal is good. Normal is underrated. I like normal. I like everyone feeling relatively healthy. I like knowing that people are leaving and returning at about the same time every day. I like knowing that if I put on Max & Ruby, I can set off fireworks, and Josie won't notice. (which is how I've managed to babble on for so long - we're on the second episode already! whoo hoo!) Who am I kidding? I love normal. Normal means that Scott goes to work and the kids go to school and playdates and I go to work, and then we come home and we fuss over the homework, and play, and eat dinner, and fuss over baths and bedtime, and struggle briefly with the 'family bed' concept that we should really put an end to, but it's never worth the fight THAT night, we'll save it for the weekend, except that weekend never actually gets there (maybe this weekend?) but eventually we all fall asleep. Maybe not where we planned to be, but all sleeping somewhere. Sometimes spread out in several rooms, sometimes like a big pile of puppies, all on one bed. And in those in between moments when we wake in the middle of the night, when a small sleepy body has snuggled into yours, and you reach out and hold a hand, or press your face into their hair and inhale deeply, these moments, this sleep... this is the sweet stuff of life. This is normal. This is all I want.
[Oh, and since this is technically a work blog, here's some recent pics!)
