Potential alternate titles for this post:
Two Chest X-Rays In One Family In One Week Is Too Many
Remember That Time I Became A Parent During Tax Season?
Spring Break 2014: Pneumonia And No Sleep
The Best Laid Plans Will Stab You In The Back
Omg, people. Like, dear Universe, seriously? At least thank you for dive bombing us while Trent was on spring break and could field most of the crazy.
Last week was supposed to be easy. Trent had off from seminary classes and from the after school program he runs. He was going to do all daycare drop offs and pickups so I could work a lot. He was going to tackle a bunch of house projects, car projects and school projects.
Then Brother got pneumonia and we launched into lotsa meds and breathing treatments.
Then Sister got shots and we launched into five feverish days and nights of very little sleep.
Then Mama got bronchitis and a wicked cough and just kept launching and launching until doctor said go home and rest.
Then Dada got a sinus infection and crashed and burned after being a rock star and keeping our family more or less sane for the whole week.
Things I learned last week:
-Parenting is hard (ok I learned that on like day 2 of having kids)
-Parenting during tax season when I'm supposed to be working 55 hours a week is really hard
-Sitting on a quilt on the floor with a feverish baby at 3 am who won't sleep in her bed, surrounded by Tylenol, throw up covered rags from Tylenol she can't keep down, a bottle she doesn't want, a thermometer beeping high numbers and not a clue how to make it all better is a rather desolate, lonely place to be...
-There is no quota for number of prayers that may rise from my heart and lips in a week's time. If there is, I knocked it out of the ballpark and into the river beyond.
-I need to listen to people around me who care about me when they tell me to take care of myself before I hit bottom. Like the coworker who said she would personally come unplug my computer if I didn't go home and get well. Or my husband who, after several crazy days for him and more crazies ahead, just wanted me to go home and sleep.
-Sitting on the living room floor having "breathing treatment parties" with our son to get both our sets of lungs healthy again is kind of special, in a weird way. I'm glad his 19 month self doesn't understand my joking references to hookah lounges and taking hits...
-I need to eat. Even if it means leaving kids crying for a few minutes while I gobble something, anything, I need to eat more and better. I've lost 12 pounds since the kids came to us, which you'd think would make me happy, but it makes me frustrated, because I know it is a result of not taking care of myself. And none of my clothes fit. It's really dumb.
-My husband is amazing. (Ok, I learned that in September of 2005...) He stayed home with Brother and slept in his room for two nights. He kept his own sanity intact throughout an almost 3 hour doctor appointment with Brother which included a chest xray and one cranky toddler. He somehow still got a lot of reading done for school. He fixed the washing machine, again. He fixed the hot water heater. He fixed the vacuum. On night #4 of the Fever Saga, after what can only be described as a middle of the night mini breakdown by me, he slept the remainder of the night propped up on the sofa with Sister sound asleep on his chest, just so I could finally sleep. He hugged me and pep talked me and calmed me down from my little freak out sessions, even though he was the one shouldering the bulk of the stress. He carried us. Could not have made it through without him.