Monday, February 27, 2012

cabin fever

I don't know how well you think you know me, but if you know me at all you should know that I like pretty things. I like pretty things, I like a neat house, and as much as I don't mind sharing my personal thoughts and feelings with the world, I'm about as self-conscious as they come in regard to being seen in public, or having my picture taken.

But this last week has been the icing on the ridiculous, sour cake that the past two months have been regarding our health around here, and it isn't pretty. Last Wednesday, the day after we said goodbye to Grammie and began to settle back into our routine, the girls both began to exhibit mild cold symptoms. A bummer, but no big deal. I felt it a little bit, too, but I popped a Zyrtec and some Advil and did okay. The girls, I thought, would be better by Thursday.

On Thursday, they woke up with fevers. Nothing major. 99'-100' range. Double bummer. They stayed home from preschool. Surely they'd be better by the end of the day.

By the end of the day their fevers were at 101' and over.

On Friday they were both coughing terribly, and their fevers jumped up to 103'+ several times during the day. No preschool. They lazed around the house looking pale, tired, with those sad glassy eyes, obviously feeling miserable. Books, coloring, stickers, and television were only mildly entertaining. We had to cancel Lena's callback audition for a pretty major national commercial. The girls felt so bad that they couldn't sleep well, and they would cry in frustration. Bummer bummer bummer.

I kept thinking they HAD to be better soon, and they just weren't. Those fevers wouldn't go away, and stuck around for Saturday, too. They just had colds, but it was a stupid variety of cold that would. not. go. away. And we couldn't do anything to help. Both girls have been so healthy their whole lives that I'm really not used to watching them suffer for so long, and I couldn't sleep well while they were sick and their fevers kept spiking. So I spent most of this time trying to tend to them and also trying not to let them see that I was so ridiculously upset over how sick they were that I kept having to retreat into the kitchen to cry helplessly.

Yes, they only had colds. I KNOW.

(In other news, my husband is amazing. I've said it before, but it bears repeating.)

Anyway. I'm turning this into an 80's miniseries. The point is, they are only just feeling better as of yesterday, although they're still pretty tired from it all, and still coughing, but they're fairly healthy today at last. And today it's cold and rainy outside. Of course.

So we've been more or less cooped up in our 710 square foot home since last Wednesday. That's six days in which the girls in particular have barely left the house. They've watched, read, colored, stickered, and trashed everything in sight. Six times over. Minimum.

We're losing our minds, here.

So, this is what my life looks like today:


Like I said - not pretty.


Lena is mad at me in these photos because I had just previously made her lie down in bed for ten minutes. Because she needs a nap SO BADLY. Because she is so fragile that she was in tears over her lunch (princess chicken noodle soup) (PRINCESS) (which she requested) because I wouldn't count every time she took a bite. Why wouldn't I? Why am I so mean to my baby? Because she WOULDN'T TAKE A BITE. Explaining the logic - that Mama can't count how many bites you've had if you won't actually take a bite - just made her cry harder. And when I finally got her to eat a whole eight noodles (only the noodles are edible, obviously), she cried because....because I don't know why. She just cried and cried, she was so mad. So I put her in our bed and cuddled with her and tried to rub her back, and she cried - she was SO mad at me. "Just ten minutes, honey." "Buh-uh-uht I oh-oh-oh-nly wahnt fo-ho-ho-ur minuhuhuhutes!" "Alright, four minutes." "BUHT I WAH-AHNT FOUR MINUHUHUTES!!"

Which woke up the baby.

This is my life, in all its glory. Three p.m., we're all still in our jammas, worn out, bored, and wildly emotional.


Just a minute ago, Evie bit Lena because she wanted Lena's shoes. Yes, I just admitted that my baby bit someone. No, this isn't her normal behaviour.

(But oh, the teen years are going to be SO MUCH FUN!)


The house is trashed. The TV is on. Don't even ask me about the kitchen.

Just seventeen more hours until they go back to preschool.


(And just eighteen hours until I'll miss them.)

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