Digging out

Despite our flu shots, that vicious virus found our family last week. Only Henry was spared, thanks to an early dose of medication. I’m not naming the medication because it cost a fortune, and I’ll be darned if I’m going to provide free advertising on top of it.

Eleanor got sick Wednesday afternoon, and Greg and I followed on Saturday. We traded off parenting duties for the remainder of the weekend (A three-day weekend at that — fun!) based on who was not vomiting. Fever? Muscle aches? Sore throat? Onward. Only the person prostrate on the bathroom floor was excused.

Eleanor watched an amount of television that I’m not comfortable documenting. It was PBS, if that counts for anything. PBS as in “Dinosaur Train,” not “Downton Abbey,” though I’m sure she would love the attire. Greg and I jockeyed for space on the couch, huddled under a blanket that should probably now be burned. Henry toddled from room to room calling out “thank you” and wondering why we had all become so boring. Henry has yet to figure out the context for “thank you” and so uses it whenever the mood strikes. Abe was all over the couch-snuggling situation. Best weekend he’s had in years.

It’s times like this when it’s hard not having family nearby. Both kids were still potentially contagious when Greg and I started to get sick, so I’m not sure I could have even called in family. It was definitely too much to ask our friends to watch our petri dish children. I’m bad at asking for help anyway. We did have several friends kindly check in on us, just before the vultures started circling.

Much as I would rather not be sick, I still take some comforts from our miserable weekend, though Greg looked at me as though I were crazy when I suggested such a thing. Maybe I’m finally kicking that 34-year pessimistic streak!

The flu is temporary (I hope). We’ve been through worse. And all of that worrying I do all of the time, about finishing that article and buying that birthday present for the weekend party and sending that email, all of that stuff can wait. Somehow the world keeps going. The little stuff can wait while I attend to the big stuff. Sometimes I need a reminder of which is which.

One thought on “Digging out

  1. I’m sorry to hear you were sick! What a bust. But really… Henry using “thank you” all the time is adorable.

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