Which is a whole lot of fun for the gal in charge--
First Maddox, then Beckham.
Which we could have just changed their names to 'cranky' and 'crankier', and it would have been the same thing.
Or 'Hard to please' and 'Impossible to please' would have worked too.
As any decent mother does, I hate for my kids to be sick.
But if I am honest, my hatred stems more from the fact that the tears and fits and whining makes me slightly psychotic, and completely impatient.
There were lots of tears...
From all parties--
And worried family too.
Which was obvious from Pop's sweet delivery of "pedialyte", (which was more like "groceries") on my front porch during his lunch break!
Lance had jury duty last Friday and Monday.
The kids and I met him that Friday when they got out for a late lunch and I treated myself to some spending 'al la Christmas cash.
I bought a new Ninja mixer and pots and pans!
I am so almost 30.
I also took a couple of hours to have dinner with a couple of gal pals that night, and recharged.
It started as just allergies-- my signature look of a meth addict; red face, swollen, and sneezing no less than 76 times a minute, while feeling like I could scratch my forehead right off my face.
We had gone to Audrey Jane's 3rd birthday party last weekend and the weather was perfect with some decent winds-- which is pretty much my arch enemy during the cold weather months.
Monday I made the kids stay inside all day with me for fear of re-exposure. I was still achey and sluggish, but chalked it up to sneezing in Olympic measures the day before and still did not think I was "sick".
Tuesday, my mom came over and we went out to get donuts. That little time outside got me going again, and I am pretty sure I ran a fever-- low grade-- but just enough to make me want to crawl in a cave and hibernate for the rest of the day…
It wasn't until Wednesday that I realized that this was more than an allergy thing-- that I had the boys' illness.
I had ventured out to meet a lady off of our community's Craig's List type site.
The boys and I met Lance for Chickfila, which for the first time of ever, sounded gross to me.
I ate my salad, and 3 glasses of sweet tea, and then I slid over to Kroger for a couple of things before I had to meet the lady.
On the meat isle, I started feeling the need to gag.
If you know me, this isn't a huge deal. Raw meat makes me gag when I am well. I shrugged it off as holly being holly.
But then I slid over to the bread and it was coming…
there was nothing I could do except stretch my head up towards the ceiling like a giraffe and make the dramatic gagging sound over and over-- just trying to hold the real mess back.
The boys were looking up at me like "please don't do this here mom!"… and I was certainly trying.
I looked over and made eye contact with a lady I was once in a lady's group with.
I can't tell if she didn't place me or if she was just doing us both a favor and moved on…
But it was then that it hit me from the other end….
I got my gags under control and tried to turn that bus of a cart around to get to the restroom but I was pushing one the carts with the little car attached to the front and we were getting no where fast.
I knew we were literally seconds from a mess, so I yelled at the kids, "get out and run!"
And we did.
Thankfully the "family" one was open and I got to hide out in there-- with an audience of two-- the smallest trying to crawl in my lap, so worried-- and once I finally felt well enough to retrieve my cart, I decided to forget the rest of the list and just pay.
Which means that I missed half of the things I needed---
including toilet paper…
which happens to be highly important to me during this mess.
I spent the rest of the night hugging up to the restroom and cleaning up Beckham who decided to poop his pants for no reason whatsoever.
Thursday, I completely forgot about the appraiser coming and opened the door in my robe-- with mascara a good 1/2" rubbed below my eyes, and an apology.
...While running back and forth to the restroom and hoping to goodness that he didn't notice.
The surveyor came out and did his thing too--this move is finally real.
I can't believe the house is rocking right along.
The house that wasn't even For Sale!
Three weeks ahead of schedule, actually.
They have told us that we can close early if we'd like--
but with January's mortgage already paid and the set-back of illness, on top of illness--
and not one box packed yet,
We are going to hold steady with the original close date for now.
I had made Lance a deal, years ago--
that if we sold the house and made it out to our land, he could buy a Ranger.
His truck has been paid off for years, and he has never told me one time that I can't have anything.
However, he's the only one in this house with a list of wants.
I am always the reasonable (bill paying) one, full of no's.
So it felt good to say yes...
And he's been on cloud nine since we brought it home on Saturday.
My mom and I spent all of Sunday and yesterday painting the rental.
We still are not finished and now mom has come down with a sore throat and a fever--
and I am still patiently waiting on a freeze to rescue myself from my look of meth.
There's not enough sinus rinses, nasal sprays, antihistamines, or showers to take away this misery.
I need to be packing...
I need to have a garage sale...
I need a dumpster and a free daycare...
(^ unrelated, those two)
I need more time.
But we are two weeks from moving...
Like it or not.
We are busy over here!