One flu over the cuckoo's nest
If my doctor was right and the Tamiflu he gave me lessened the severity and duration of this illness considerably, I shudder to think what I would have been like without the stuff. It has been nearly a week now and I am still hard pressed not to put my head down right here on my keyboard for a little snoozer. This flu is nasty stuff.
Julia spiked a fever on Saturday, just hours after she had breathed all over her friends at a birthday party, so I suspect that we are not going to be very popular people in the preschool community this week. Fortunately, the flu shot which I foolishly deemed unnecessary for myself has made a world of difference for her and the disease which has crippled me for nearly a week scarcely seems to be affecting her. I doubt that she'll be able to return to school tomorrow, but Wednesday seems somewhat likely. Unfortunately, by Wednesday, all of the friends who she probably infected on Saturday should be good and ill, so really, what's the rush?
I had hoped to ease back into civilized life today with a day that included school for both of my children and strategically scheduled babysitting to give me a mid-day break, but Julia's illness pretty much killed that plan. Instead, here we are at home containing our germs; a slit-eyed flu survivor dreaming of cool sheets and blessed silence, a germy preschooler whose fever does not seem to be impacting her ability to cover every spare inch of my home with scotch tape and her stir crazy younger brother who, as the victim of circumstance, has now been unfairly cut off from civilization for the better part of a week. It aint pretty, folks. The house is also filthy because our cleaning woman is deathly afraid of flu germs, so I guess it is fortunate that my "give a shit" quotient has been significantly reduced by this illness. If we all make it through this day alive, I am going to consider it a parenting triumph.
I know, I know. I don't usually write blog entries that are quite this rambling and self-absorbed. I usually at least have a point to make. But it has been five days since I have seen a human being other than my immediate family, and the whole situation clearly has me a little on the crazy side. How crazy? Well, I don't think that it is the feverish delirium talking when I report that I now have indisputable proof that the graphics department responsible for Pullups is indeed messing with my mind. Paul did an emergency run to the store this weekend when we were running dangerously low on Pullups and came home with a Toy Story-themed pack. The balls on the Elmo ones might have been coincidence, but really, how am I supposed to tell my son to keep his Woody dry with a straight face?
It hurts to laugh. I will be the first in line at next year's flu clinic.