Almost Back to School Time . . .

              . . . and I can't wait!

Summertime is fabulous, but this one kind of sucked.


We got to play with adorable
cats like this when volunteering
for P.A.L.S - how great is that?! 

First The Princess had what looked like a teeny tiny bug bite.  It didn't really hurt her, but it was oozing just a tiny bit and we were about to volunteer for P.A.L.S. , so I cleaned it and put a band-aid on it.  In the morning, when I took the band-aid off, it was totally disgusting.  There was no doubt in my mind it was infected due to the swelling and amount of pus, and after attempting to care for it at home, I finally took her to the doctor who told us that it was probably MRSA, an antibiotic resistant type of staph infection.  The lab test which came back a few days later confirmed it.  We treated her with Bactrim and she got better.



Then DH got a little cut on the Tragus part of his ear (see diagram on the left).  It also became infected with MRSA.  We knew that because it swelled and swelled and swelled - never would have thought that part of the ear could possibly get that big.  He was hospitalized for a week for IV antibiotics and eventually surgery to drain the infection.  He was discharged and home for about ten days before spiking a fever and getting readmitted for another week for even more antibiotics.

 

 

 

And then I discovered a tiny but extremely painful bump on the top of my head.  Yep, it was MRSA.  And oh my gosh did it hurt!  After a few days of antibiotics and lots of time lounging around in the bathtub (hey, the doctor told me to apply warm compresses as often as possible - hot baths qualified), my head started to feel better, just in time for Twin B to point out painful red spot on his thigh.  We took one look and knew what it was.  At the hospital we discovered two other infected areas on his body.  Twin B was hospitalized for a week for IV antibiotics.

 

The Princess and Twin A were at my sister's house while we were with Twin B in the ER.  When I went to pick them up, my sister pointed out a red spot on The Princess's chest.  Oh, come ON!!  I turned around and took her back to the ER.  Because she has always had such sensitive skin and eczema, she apparently had a number of raw spots on her body.  As we started examining her in the ER, we found a total of seven spots on her infected with MRSA.  Back on antibiotics she went.

 

 

I'm not gonna lie; MRSA is a pain in the butt to get rid of once more than one family member has it.  We have bleached every surface, doorknob, and handle in the house.  We have bleached all of our sheets, pillowcases, towels, and washclothes.  We have each put medicine up our noses (at the suggestion of the infectious disease doctor) twice a day for a week.  We have washed our bodies in a special hospital cleanser for ten days.

 

But as much of a problem dealing with the infections was, dealing with people's reactions was worse.  There is so much misinformation out there about MRSA.  My kids and I were kicked out of camp.  People wouldn't come inside our house.  Some of my daughter's friends wouldn't let her play with them.  When on vacation with my extended family, it was decided that we were only allowed to use one particular bathroom in the beach house.  I feel I am an expert on MRSA now, but even when I have tried educating people with information from the CDC (and supply links for more detailed information), people were scared and simply stayed away.

 

So I'm thrilled to declare the Summer of MRSA is nearly over.  Bring on school, with its early mornings, temper tantrums, packing daily lunches, homework struggles, behavior issues, and all. 

 

It's got to be better than this past summer.

 

 

 

 

 

Life is Crazy

Okay, so I'm not blond, and I actually
have three kids, but this picture
might give you some idea of how I feel.

My life feels like it is always in chaos.  No matter what I do, no matter what I clean, I blink and dishes are piled up all around the house, crumbs are scattered on the carpet, and dirty clothes are everywhere.

So I do what I always do: search online until I find a new cure-all to solve my house woes.  Only now I have discovered (and have fallen head over heals completely in love with) Pinterest.  Which means that I spend a good deal of time finding and pinning pictures of organized rooms or walls or corners that make me swoon.

Pictures like this:

Is this not the most beautifully organized desk you have ever seen?  Unfortunately, I cannot find the actual website it came from, so I am unable to properly credit the person who created this vision of loveliness, but please know that my dearest wish (okay, ONE of my dearest wishes) is to snap my fingers and make this picture come to life right here next to where I am typing.

Thank you to Clair at Once Upon a Chocolate Chip Pancake for this amazing Menu Planning Board idea!  I am so tired of one (or two or three) kids coming up to me as I'm making dinner to find out what we are having and, upon hearing it, bursting into tears or whines or complaints about how much they don't want that.  At least if I create this board and display it prominently somewhere in the house, the kids will have time to prepare themselves for whatever culinary masterpiece I am about to serve them.

I found this idea at A Brooklyn Limestone In Progress and fell in love with it.  The best part is I think I actually already have some of these pieces from IKEA.

I have Kevin & Amanda to thank for this incredibly organized kitchen cabinet.  Don't get me wrong; that is not a picture of MY kitchen cabinet, only what I hope my kitchen cabinet will look like after I have organized it based on this inspiration.

Sigh.

Of course, none of those inspiring pictures are going to help me shovel out the chaos that has overtaken my house, despite DH's best efforts, while I was sick these last two weeks.

On a side note, did you know that once you have Pneumonia, you are very susceptible to getting it again?  Like, any time you get another cold?  At all?  Yeah, me neither.  And while I did not end up in the hospital again, I have been fighting this Bronchitis/Reactive Airway Disease crap since right before Passover began to keep it from settling in my lungs.  All of that meant I had to stay in bed and rest for a LONG time since getting up and trying to do the least little thing left me out of breath and struggling for air.  Fun times. 

My plan for this Sunday, while DH had the kids at my in-laws for most of the day, was to attack the kitchen (Because make no mistake, this is a war and I am most definitely losing.): clean out the fridge, clean off the counters, pack up the unopened Passover foods (not like they're going to go bad any time soon), and generally reorganize and get a better handle on the food in the cabinets.  Then I was going to prep the meals for the week in an attempt to bring a small amount of peace to my world of chaos.

However, as I have always found:

In this case that translates to The Princess being sick - just sick enough to not be happy with ANYTHING I say or do but still needing my attention every three to five minutes.  Oh, and did I mention how she is always in such a good mood when she's sick, especially when she no longer has a fever and feels a little better and wants to go outside and play with the other kids and I'm just so mean and horrible because I won't let her do it.   Don't get me wrong - if she wanted me to cuddle up with her or play with her I would.  But no, she doesn't want that, she doesn't want anything, she just wants to complain.

So I'm going to tackle this the FLYlady way: fifteen minutes at a time.  Let's see how much I can do in that kitchen in fifteen minutes, and then I'll sit with The Princess and give her my undivided attention for fifteen minutes.  Who knows?  Maybe she'll even acknowledge my presence without complaining about how much she wants to go outside!

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving marks the one year anniversary of when DH's medical mystery, the mystery that had taken over our lives for two and a half years, was finally solved.  This week, one year ago, DH once again began experiencing the strange stroke-like symptoms that caused sudden, significant weakness over the entire left side of his body.  He was once again unable to use his left leg without it buckling, unable to lift his left arm or use his hand. Once again his words became garbled, the left side of his face drooped, and he couldn't move his tongue to the left side of his mouth.  

This time was different; DH was experiencing a brand-new symptom.  This time, his head hurt, too.  And even though every medical test that any doctor could think of had already been run, this new symptom caused the doctors to hospitalize DH yet again in order to re-run the old tests and try some new ones.  The headache, in conjunction with all the other symptoms, finally forced the doctors to think outside of the box.  It finally provided the missing piece of the puzzle that convinced the doctors once and for all that DH was not allowing his stress to manifest itself in a physical way with these bizarre symptoms (a.k.a. Conversion Disorder).  

On Thanksgiving Day last year, a neurologist finally came up with the diagnosis of Complex Hemiplegic Migraines, a disorder that explained everything and, as soon as it was mentioned and I began researching it on-line, seemed so obvious I could not believe that none of the fancy-shmancy neurologists at Jefferson or Johns Hopkins had even considered it.

Late in the afternoon that day, DH was given an injection of medication to treat the migraine, and within ten minutes, the symptoms went away.  Just like that.  He could speak clearly, he could move his arm above his head, he could walk without a cane.  For the first time since this medical roller coaster started, he was able to leave the hospital better than when he entered.  This time he did not require weeks and weeks of physical therapy to regain full use of his body, only to relapse with yet another episode anywhere from a month after all the symptoms had disappeared to as little as a few days after being discharged from the hospital, long before his body was back to normal.  This time, exactly one year ago today, the doctors figured out what was wrong and actually treated it.  They prescribed medication to prevent the migraines from returning and medication to take at the first sign that a migraine is coming anyway. 

Don't get me wrong - we have ended up in the ER a number of times this year.   Any time DH's symptoms do not respond to his medication, we have to head back so the doctors can make sure it isn't a stroke.  And every time, despite acting  they are humoring me when I tell them the specific medicine he needs in his IV and that the symptoms will completely disappear within ten minutes, DH's symptoms have disappeared within ten minutes.  But the times that his migraines do not respond to his medication are becoming fewer, and I clearly have become more convincing in the ER - our visits are shorter each time now that the doctors are giving DH the IV drug earlier and earlier into our stay.

This year, as we went around the table overflowing with our extended family to share exactly what we were thankful for, I couldn't help but tear up a little as I remembered last Thanksgiving: taking the kids to visit Daddy during the day, Twin B getting so excited about how "lucky" we were to be in the hospital that day since the cafeteria was giving away free turkey lunches and dinners, trying to provide a sense of normalcy for the kids by taking them to our regular Thanksgiving dinner at my parents' even though DH was still in the hospital.  I remember talking to DH on the phone soon after the medication had taken effect, marveling at how easy it was to understand his speech as he told me he could go home the next day.

And so today marks the anniversary of the mystery being solved.  It marks the end of DH being told it was "all in his head" and the beginning of actually treating the problem.        

Happy Thanksgiving, indeed.

Ha, Ha, Ha

Oy.

Man plans, God laughs.  This really has been my motto for a while now, and I just have to remember it.

*  I committed to participate in NaBloPoMo - writing a new post every single day for the entire month.  I was actually pretty excited about this idea, both to give me a good incentive to push myself with my writing and because potentially it was a good way to increase my blog's audience from the hundreds two of you who are reading it right now to maybe thousands five or more.

And then God laughed, and my computer got some horrible virus that even the Tech Guys at Staples called a "Bad Virus."  To remove the virus and install better virus protection will come to almost the same amount I paid for the laptop a number of years ago, so it really didn't seem financially responsible.  I am, however, paying around $70 for them to hopefully save my files and pictures that I saved on the computer.  Bottom line, I was without a computer for just about two full days.  Oh well, I'll try NaBloPoMo again next month.

*  I have been recovering from this stupid pneumonia for a while now - almost four weeks.  I have been doing everything I am supposed to do: took every single one of my antibiotics (even the long blue one that always began disolving on my tongue causing me to gag no matter how I tried to swallow it), rested for the length of time the doctors said I should and then some, stayed out of work for the length of time the doctors said I should.  I was given permission to ease back into the gym starting this past Monday, as long as I reduced the intensity level and time of my workouts.

And then God laughed.  I tried a Yoga class on Wednesday figuring this would be a good thing - deep breathing, slow movements.  Yeah, right.  Right from the start I discovered I needed to modify almost every movement to make it easier for me.  Okay, I could do that.  But after about fifteen minutes, my chest started hurting.  Not because of my heart (though I did picture having to call 911 to be driven to the ER so they could hook me up to all those machines and make sure I wasn't having a heart attack) but because of my lungs.  I stopped, put my shoes back, and left.

*  I went grocery shopping yesterday, after taking a lot of time the night before to match up all my coupons to what was on sale, my mini-attempt at extreme couponing.

And then God laughed and made sure I realized by the huge wave of fatigue that hit me while in the checkout line that I was not ready to do grocery shopping yet.

I think I need to stop making my plans public because I have so much I need to do.  I'm going to attempt to do it all (paperwork, paperwork, paperwork, and replan for a birthday party I'm performing at tomorrow since I had saved the hours of planning I already had completed on my old computer) while sitting on my couch today in order to rest my lungs some more.

If the couch breaks, then I know God just has a sick sense of humor.   

An Important Reminder

I have been at the computer all day yesterday and all morning working on ways to solve or at least alleviate this major financial crisis in which we find ourselves.  Every idea I come up with turns out to take four times longer than I expect.  After working so hard for all that time, all I have managed to do is:

1)  Reduce the APR of one of the three credit cards (29% to 12% for the next year!)

2)  Complete the on-line application for state assistance

3)  Gather almost all of the paperwork I will need to submit to the county office to verify the information I submitted in the application

I got the dreaded phone call around 11:00; the school nurse called to let me know the Princess wouldn't stop coughing.  Yay.  I took her right to the doctor where she was given a breathing treatment in addition to a serious talking to about not allowing the cat in her bedroom - ever.  Woo hoo.  Tonight should be fun.  But you and Daddy get to share a room and Twin A and Twin B get to share a room and now I don't get to share a room with ANYone!!!!  This should be an easy bedtime.

When I got home from the doctor's office, I checked in with my friends' on Facebook.  The first thing I saw was the sign I put up top.  Things are pretty overwhelming right now, what with the lots of bills to pay and the not a lot of income to pay it with plus needing to take Twin A to the cardiac specialist tomorrow morning.  I think I needed to remember that even though it doesn't feel like it now, everything is happening the way it is meant to happen.  I need to take a breath, let it out, and remind myself that this too shall pass.

Sigh.

Breathing is Underrated

So this is not actually a picture of
ME, but I wanted something that
somewhat illustrated how I felt.

Pneumonia sucks.

How many times have you hear about someone going to the doctor because they have a cough that won't go away and the doctor diagnoses bronchitis or walking pneumonia, prescribes some antibiotics and maybe some cough syrup, and that person improves in a day or two?

Apparently "Double Pneumonia" is a totally different thing than "Walking Pneumonia."  Who knew? Walking Pneumonia is a mild infection.  Antibiotics are usually all you need to treat it and you can continue going to school or walk once you have 24 hours worth of antibiotics in your system.  Double Pneumonia can be quite extreme.  It can come on very fast, infects both lungs, and often requires hospitalization for IV antibiotics.

One day, about four weeks ago, I noticed that walking upstairs left me slightly winded. 
Huh.  Wonder what that's about?  Better push myself to get to the gym more often - clearly I'm out of shape if just walking up the stairs is causing me to get out of breath.

About a week later, I started coughing.  It was a dry cough, happening only every once in a while, and didn't seem like it was a big deal.

As that week went on, the cough increased slightly, gradually.  While I could still participate in my water aerobics classes, I was becoming winded by running small distances.  It wasn't too bad, but I definitely noticed a difference.  Huh.  That's weird.

By the end of that week, my cough got worse.  It was still definitely a dry cough, but I was now having coughing spells lasting a few minutes at a time.  I finally agreed with DH (who likes to go to the doctor at the first sign of a cold/illness) that I should go to the doctor.  Since I have my doctorate from Google based on all the research I did to find out more information in an attempt to understand and diagnose DH's bizarre neurological mysteries, I determined that I had viral bronchitis and the doctor would give me cough medicine and an inhaler. 

Side note:  I just discovered I never wrote about the fact that we have a diagnosis for him now, preventative medication, medication to take at the onset of symptoms, and his three year long medical mystery has been solved!  Guess that will be a post for another day.

I am always disappointed to discover
the real ER is NOTHING like this ER.

Lo and behold, I was correct, and after taking my medicine and inhaler, I went to sleep sitting up on the couch, resting my forehead on the back of the couch because coughing was making my head hurt.  I woke up around three in the morning coughing and gasping for air.  I walked upstairs to get my medicine but the sound of me trying to breath woke DH, who insisted we head to the ER.  He called his parents to come over and stay with the kids, and as soon as they got here, we took off. 

Within the first thirty minutes in the ER, I was rushed to get a chest X-Ray, which clearly showed pneumonia in both lungs.  My pulse ox was low, so they got me set up with oxygen.  Then they was hooked me up to I.V. antibiotics.  Even though I am no longer as needle-phobic as I used to be, I still HATE getting I.V.s.  Just to add to how miserable I was feeling, it took the nurses FOUR separate tries until they could finally successfully insert the I.V.  Each time they saw a great vein, thought they had it, and were then fooled as the vein collapsed.  But at least each nurse that tried was very persistent, not willing to give up the vein that had just looked so promising, so they moved the needle back and forth to try to get that vein to cooperate.  OWWWW!  Then they needed a blood sample from a different spot (are you KIDDING me?!!) which they took from the back of my hand - OWWW!!  Apparently the blood test results indicated I might also have a Pulmonary Embolism, so they needed to quickly take me to get a CAT scan with and without contrast, which, or course, needed to be given to me WITH A NEW I.V. IN A NEW I.V. SITE! 

Luckily they CAT scan showed that I did not have anything more than pretty bad pneumonia, so they told me I would be admitted and would go upstairs to a room as soon as a bed was available.

So we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

FIFTEEN HOURS later I was finally brought upstairs to a hospital room, where I stayed for the next four days.  I was only allowed to go home if I promised to continue resting for the next five days or so.

So I'm home, recovering.  In the beginning I had to stop three times to walk up our one flight of stairs, gasping for air by the time I got upstairs.  I can now go up and down the stairs slowly, but without having to pause to catch my breath.  I finally convinced DH to go back to school (he had stayed by my side, on leave from school, since I first went to the hospital) today, so this is my first day on my own.  I truly cannot believe how long it is taking for my lungs to get back to normal.

Therefore I feel I can state with certainty:

Pneumonia Sucks!

The Show Must Go On

The adrenaline surges, the house lights dim, the audience members quiet, the stage lights rise, we collectively take a breath . . . and it begins. 

Theater used to be my life.  I have always been dramatic; there is a picture of me at two on the top of a slide in a party dress pouting - my mom tells me that I was upset about something so I went up there to sulk (and make sure everyone could see me doing said sulk).  Any time I could find anyone willing to sit for a couple minutes, I would perform.  I even used to sometimes arrange my dolls and stuffed animals to be the audience when real people were not available.  I was six years old when I got my first opportunity to be in a "real" show.  It was Cheaper by the Dozen, and I don't remember much about it besides getting to walk on stage while carrying roller skates.  But wow, once it happened, once I got to step into those lights and become another person and then have people clap for me afterwards, I was totally hooked. 

From that moment on, I did shows any chance I could.  Someone once asked me how many shows I have done, but honestly - I have no idea of an exact number.  All the way through my senior year of high school I usually ended up doing around three to five shows a year.  Besides choir practices and concerts, pretty much my life revolved around rehearsals and performances.  And then I went to college.

I became officially financially independent when I left for college.  I paid for school and housing and all my other expenses myself, which meant when I wasn't in class or doing coursework, I was working.  And that meant no extra time for theater. 

After graduating I went into full out job search plus wedding planning mode for the next year.  I was subbing and dieting and sending out cover letters and figuring out what the bridesmaids were going to wear.  Again, no extra time for theater.

That changed that summer.  We got married, so the wedding was behind me, I got a teaching position, so the job hunt was behind me, I finally had a smidge of extra time.  Theater!



It wasn't the same as before; my schedule no longer allowed me to do back to back shows, but DH and I discovered an incredible local community theater and got the chance to do shows together, usually about one or two a year.  I wasn't getting big roles, but I was still enjoying the whole experience.  I finally got cast in my biggest post-high school role as the Little Redheaded Girl in You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown. 

And then I got pregnant with the boys.  I managed to still do the show, even though I did have to fluff out my costume from the wings before I skipped on stage each time in an attempt to hide my growing belly.



Note the location of my hands in this picture, placed there
specifically to hide my pregnancy.

Just when I was emerged from the fog that forms around your brain when you have twins (around about the time they turned one) I started thinking about getting back on the stage.  I auditioned for and was cast in The Laramie Project, an amazing show in which everyone got to play multiple characters. 

And then I got pregnant with The Princess.  Despite the fact I would be very obviously pregnant during the run of this show (no amount of fluffing out my costume would hide it this time) the director rolled with it, saying, "I'm sure there were pregnant people in Laramie.  We'll make it work."  And we did.

And then life with three kids happened.

Time went by, as it does, and this summer I realized that eight years had gone by since I had felt that adrenaline rush that only comes from hearing the audience react to something I said or did, eight years since I had stepped into another character's skin, eight years since I had bonded with a group of people working together with a single vision.  EIGHT YEARS!

So I auditoned for and was cast in a children's theater version of Hansel and Gretel.  And it was just as great as I remembered.  Last weekend we opened - two matinees on Sunday.  It was incredible!  And to perform for and interact with kids, listening to them laugh and gasp, responding to their unexpected comments and questions during the show - for me it doesn't get much better than that.





That's me on the right as "Dizzy Weirdina," one of the witch's two apprentices.

 And then once again, life happened.  Or, more precisely, pnuemonia did.

What started as simply getting winded easily last Thursday became me coughing and gasping for air by the middle of the night on Tuesday.  I went to the ER and was hospitalized.  I held out hope that I might still be able to do the show - after all, normally all you need is one day of antibiotics before you start feeling better.  It soon became clear that was not going to be the case here.  I needed oxygen, IV antibiotics, and breathing treatments every two to six hours round the clock.  Walking to the bathroom left me out of breath for the next thirty minutes.  After a day or two I came to the realization that everyone else around me had already figured out - there was no way I would be able to perform in the final three shows.

The assistant director stepped up and took over my role.  It turned out to be a good thing I accepted the fact that I wouldn't be able to finish the run when I did since I ended up staying in the hospital until Saturday afternoon and was only allowed to leave if I promised to stay in bed and rest until I am able to walk more than one hundred feet without gasping for air.  And that might take a while.

So I missed my chance.  It's over.  I had to stay in bed while the show went on without me.  And it hurt.  It really hurt.  I can't even describe how it felt this weekend when each days' performance time came around.  I would watch the clock, thinking about what I really should be doing at that moment, and try to hold back the tears.

I know I will get back on stage again eventually.

It better not take another eight years.

Should We Be Quarentined?

I know, I know, I never call, I never write, trust me - I can do Jewish guilt with the best of them.  And I have so many different things that I can (and will) write about.  But as FLYlady says, jump in where you are.  I have so much going on right now that is running around in my mind, and it helps me to write it all out, so that's what I'm going to do.

Twin A is pretty sick right now, though he is recovering.  He woke with a fever on Thursday which continued through Friday.  Things took a strange turn Friday night when he began complaining that his legs hurt and started refusing to put any weight on them.  He can be dramatic, and I didn't want to make too big a deal out of it and show him my concern, so I downplayed it.  I tried to get him to stand in a variety of ways, but even when I picked him up under his arms, he curled his legs up and refused to even straighten them.  After talking with the doctor a couple times during the day on Saturday and trying Ibuprofen and warm baths at home, we took him to the ER.  Ultimately they discovered he had something called Myositis.  Now I don't know about you, but I never ever heard about that before.  Here's what I learned:

In all people with myositis, lymphocytes (white blood cells) attack muscle. The body generates antibodies that attack healthy tissue in different parts of the body. These autoantibodies and some of the lymphocytes turn against the body’s own tissues and damage the muscles and skin.

This can be caused by a simple virus.  Woohoo!  They figure out if you have it based on the symptoms and by a CK test.  Didn't know what that was either, so here's what I learned about that:

Creatine kinase (CK):  A blood test to assess levels of creatine kinase will be ordered. CK is an enzyme found mainly in muscles. When muscles are damaged, it leaks out into the bloodstream, causing CK levels in the blood to rise. CK levels tend to go up with increasing disease activity and go down as the disease improves.

The CK is supposed to be around 100.  Twin A's CK was 2200.  Ouch.  Really, really ouch.  And I feel so bad for not taking him to the ER earlier, trying to make him put weight on his legs even when they clearly hurt.  Oh yeah, I'm a great mom. 

What I'm not describing is how hellish "challenging" it was for Twin A to even BE at the hospital, let alone getting blood tests, an IV, sleeping there, dealing with the change in his routine.  I'm still dealing with the trauma from trying to get him to sleep at all during the two day stay - he knew he would be getting a blood test each morning so was awake most of the night moaning, shaking, and crying out, "Nooooo!  No blood test!" 

One of the times Twin A had visited DH in the hospital, one of DH's monitors started beeping.  Unexpected noises seem to scare him the most, and when he something scares him, he generalizes that fear and expands it so it encompasses so much more than the original even that first scared him.  What that really means is that event made Twin A terrified of hospitals.  He was also now terrified of monitors and tubes and wires in the hospital.  Let's just say it was a fun weekend for us all and leave it at that for now.

So it's Tuesday.  We declared that today would be a "doctor-free-day" for Twin A, something that he has been repeating so many times I'm ready to scream a few times since yesterday.  I guess Twin B's body didn't get the message.  He woke with a fever, which, coupled with the major coughing he's been doing, made us take him to the doctor because I didn't think I could take it if his asthma escalated and made us go to the hospital yet again this week I am such a caring mom.  It turns out he has pneumonia. 

Are you @#$% kidding me?!!

And The Princess woke up early this morning complaining that she didn't feel well.  No fever, no major symptoms, but it was pretty clear she was crying out for some attention, so we let her stay home too.  That turned out to be a really BAAAAAD decision as she has been whining and crying MORE than her two brothers who actually ARE sick.

SERIOUSLY?!!

On the plus side:

• The Princess has not whined for the last hour (I hope I didn't just put a kinahera on it!)
• Twin A was just able to take tiny, straight-legged steps over to me - HUGE improvement!
• Twin B's pneumonia was caught very early, so hopefully the antibiotic we just started him on will knock it right out before it escalates.
• I was able to take this week off so I could take care of Twin A.
• DH was able to take yesterday, today, and tomorrow off to help with the house and taking care of Twin A.
• Twin B was thoughtful enough to get sick THIS week.  It might not feel like it, but this is a blessing in disguise.  Normally one kid is sick so DH or I have to take off until they get better, and by the time they are well enough to go back to school, another kid gets sick so DH or I have to take even MORE time off.  This way, the illnesses overlap.  See what I mean?  Very thoughtful.

And that's what is going on in this crazy lady's house.  Now let me make those three kids lunch, push some more fluids on all of them, unload  and reload the dishwasher, clear off the table and the counters, do some more laundry . . . . .

Thursday Thirteen

Thirteen Things I Hate About Being Sick:

1. I don't feel good!
2. I'm hungry, but don't know what to eat that will not send me running back to the bathroom.  I mean, I know the B.R.A.T. diet and I'm sticking to it, but I'm hungry!
3. My head hurts.
4. I still have to be the mom.
5. Our tv is downstairs.  Our one bathroom is upstairs.  You do the math.
6. Did I mention my head hurts?
7. I had to miss teaching today.
8. I can't decide yet what to do about tomorrow - Should I get a sub and stay home again?  Should I suck it up (so to speak) and just get back in the classroom?
9. Back to still having to be the mom, the children will be running through the front door in ninety minutes, at which time I will have to work with them to go through their after school routines, including doing all their homework.  And my head really hurts!
10. DH won't be home until 5:30 tonight.  Does that mean I have to make dinner for those children of mine, even though I just started keeping down toast?!
11. The Princess was coughing last night, a lot.  DH finally had to take her into the bathroom to run the hot water and fill the room with steam to help her breathe easier.  Did I mention we only have ONE bathroom. 
12. DH tends to panic when any of us gets sick, so in addition to just feeling crappy, I also had to continually reassure him that I did NOT need to go the doctor OR the ER, that I know what to do for a stomach bug.
13. Blech!

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