Thursday, May 17, 2012


I am delirious.  With fever.

It happened fast.  First Peyton, my 10-year-old, came down in the middle of the night with freaky high fever eyes.  I knew it was bad when he let me snuggle with him for five minutes.

Then as JT, my newly turned 6-year-old, and I were getting ready to go to the belated Mother's Day Tea at kindergarten, he started crying and he had the fever eyes.  
I was disappointed about not going to the party.  I was like really, really disappointed.  Crying and saying things in my head like "nothing ever goes my way."  The grand overreacting, while pretty common for me, was a tad over the top, even for me.  It was the first sign.  Then the chills, the aches and finally I looked in the mirror and I too had the crazy high fever eyes.

It's a game changer when the mama gets sick.  Who the hell does everything?  I have a good husband, a very good one, and he still doesn't do everything.  At least the way I do it, ahem, the right way.

Hopefully this is a fast bug, because it sure is aggressive.  I have to get better.  We have our busy life to get back to.  Baseball practices to go to, bills to pay, laundry to constantly try and "catch up" on, season finales to watch, plumbers to let in and so much more.

"I have a really important question," Lucy asked Tim last night.  "Not a 'can I have a chocolate milk?' kind of question."

Tim, being the amazing, kind father that he is leaned in closer and gently said "What is it honey?" (I told you he is good.)

"How are we made? How do our body parts work?," she said with a very serious voice.  "How did God make us so perfect, well not all of us." 

Tim's eyes widened.  I sat up from my sick couch to watch how Tim handled himself.  "When your mother is better, she is going to answer all those really important questions," he told her.

I gotta get better.

Yesterday before the fever invaded our house I signed the parent consent form for my fourth grader to listen to the first very important health talk.  You know the talk where they separate the girls and the boys in the class.

Being the mature parent that I am, I giggled as I signed it and asked him if he knew what this was all about.  I told him it was important to not giggle like me while his teachers talked.

I gotta get better.

There's really important stuff I've got to handle and even without a fever I'm not the best.  It could get even messier around here.

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