Saturday afternoon before Thanksgiving, Mark and Nathan (in our bed, as terrible timing would have it) suddenly got hit with some bug (which was apparently going around) (which I didn't know about). Charlotte also saw it as a great time to yarf in her crib.
I spent a long night camped on the living room floor with Nathan surrounded by towels on the couch, going back and forth between scrambling to get him to the bathroom in time, and checking on Mark where I had sent his sickness over to the guest house.
Sunday afternoon, right when we were feeling like the worst had passed (haaaaaaaaaaaa no), Nathan got sick again (in his bed, this time). And then that night, Anneliese started throwing up too (you guessed it, in her bed). So I got to spend another night camped out in the living room, but this time with a child who had no hope of making it to the bathroom on time.
Mommyhood means catching vom in your bare hands. And not even being that grossed out.
Mommyhood also means watching Tangled on endless loop. That part I didn't mind as much.
|Yes, Charlotte is literally asleep on her feet.|
Monday my children flung themselves on various pieces of furniture around the house and stared at the walls all day.
That night, when Mark was working, and I was so exhausted and frustrated and cranky I could barely think, sweet Another Nathan came and made dinner (a germ-exposure decision that would later bite him in the ass) and I finally got to rest and let myself be the one taken care of. I felt relaxed and loved.
Then on Tuesday it got me. Because of course it did. (Turns out it's not possible to avoid a bug your whole family has had, just through the force of sheer will.)
Wednesday morning the colds that Mark and Charlotte had been fighting for a week turned into fevers and coughing and aches. Charlotte couldn't sleep and Mark could barely talk.
We officially cancelled Thanksgiving.
On Thursday I pieced together a makeshift holiday meal (with two less-than-professional helpers).
The grownups tasted it. The kids mostly didn't.
Black Friday, I escaped our hothouse of vom and had a fun shopping day while sicky Mark managed a sicky baby and two increasingly-sick-of-each-other siblings.
Saturday was tree day, so we smiled at the shining sun, went to the farmer's market, and loaded our tree on the top of the minivan full of our three kids. (Because that's who we are now. WEIRD.)
We decorated it. We put the batteries back in Jingle and read together. Mark hung lights on the roof and wreaths in the window and never even cursed me under his breath. We picked out wrapping paper and put garland on the mantel (Nathan: that garlic is so pretty!) (and we will never call it garland again). We felt content and thankful that we were finally getting better.
And then Sunday Mark and Anneliese turned up with bloodshot weepy gunky eyes, because apparently Sicksgiving 2012 will NEVER FREAKING END.
Y'all. I can't even.