Survival Mode

So, as you are aware, life has been a bit of a challenge for us here, lately. I promise to get back on the "uplifting stories of hope and thankfulness" wagon as soon as possible. Sean and I both caught The Plague from our tiny little viral cornucopia. I still had my sense of humor early Tuesday morning, but by 8am things were going south in a big way. Sean was so sick he couldn't get out of bed. At 8:30 I went in to get Gillian, and found her covered in her own feces. Yep-this day when Sean and I were sick and getting sicker by the second, THIS was the day she chose take off her diaper, find a surprise, and smear it everywhere-on the crib slats, the mattress, her blanket, stuffed animals, burp cloth, her shirt, her face, her hair, all over her hands and under her nails, and I *think* she might have even tried it to see what it tasted like (because folks, it was on her MOUTH). I should have known something was up when it got awful quiet in there after the initial signal that she was awake (turning on the mobile), but she likes to wake up slow and play a little while in the morning, so I didn't rush in. I have observed already that things can always get worse, and sure on this day, our Fecal Debacle is once again proof that God's sense of humor is perfectly intact. But, since I have heard at least one Playing in One's Own Poop story at at least every other family function, I have to ask the question: what is the fascination with Poop? Because it is a not-so-foreign-object you made all by yourself, that can be used as finger paint? Because it is cute, and round, and squishy? I wondered if the smell was at all a put-off, then I remembered she tried a taste. Apparently not.

OK. So, I realize every parent has these little stories of disgustingness, but I can honestly say I really didn't have the energy to clean up her entire crib, and her. I was feeling pretty bad. The ironic thing was I had just read Sarah's entry called Poop Springs Eternal hours earlier, and I decided that the theme of the day was to be Poop and Sickness. Excellent. The only reprieve is that my nose was so stuffed up I couldn't smell what she had done. At least there was something positive I could say about being sick, for a second. Sean dragged his fever-ridden sweating self out of bed to put everything in her crib in the wash while I carried my poop smeared girl to the bathtub for an unexpected Morning Rinse and Wash.

Suzi's arrival loomed forever out of grasp-her flight Monday was cancelled. Her new flight Tuesday morning was delayed (good ol' weather, again). I needed to lay down too, and Gillian was super needy because she felt so awful. I wanted to cry when she said she wouldn't be here till 3pm instead of 11am, because I needed those extra 4 hours of help... I had to go out and get something to help Sean's fever, and I had to bring my sick baby out in the freezing cold (Sean was so weak and shaky I couldn't leave her with him). UGH. Somehow I managed (at this point I'm feeling worse and worse) and got Gillian back, fed, and in bed for a nap (and myself down for a nap also after a quick straightening up as to not horrify Suzi with the state of the house). Suzi arrived around 3, and ever the fabulous hosts, I went to bed with Sean for the rest of the afternoon (getting up to feed G and give her medicine, but everything else I left to Suzi). Wednesday and Thursday we got even sicker, constant fevers coming and going, sweating then shaking with chills. I got a sore throat and my nose was so stuffy it squeaked when I swallowed from the suction in my swollen sinuses. Sean lay in bed, vomiting and sweating. It was quite the petri dish around here. I can truthfully say I hadn't been that sick since I was 20, and that in the 11 years I have been with Sean, I have never seen him that sick.

Today, I have regained my sense of humor. I did not die. Sean did not die. Gillian did not die. I am not feeling fine today, but I am seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, and I'm on the other side of this thing. But, I have to observe the fact that it is *almost* impossible to function as parents when both people are very sick. So much so that Sean weakly asked at one point, "are you sure you want to have another one? I mean, how could we manage with two kids being this sick?" It is hard to deal with a sick baby when you're healthy and well. It is a hundred times harder when both parents are ill. Particularly when the best thing for you is to sleep it off.

So, as I had so keenly observed Tuesday morning at 4am: Suzi took care of Gillian during most of her stay; Sean got no work done; we got no dates out (unless it counts to lay in bed together with chills and fever); and I missed an entire week of work. I want to blame the winter. Because if it wasn't still an icebox outside maybe we wouldn't be having a rabid cold and flu outbreak up here, people all cloistered together because we can't seem to get a break to get outside. To the winter that never ends, I am shaking my fist of rage.