This has been a truly awful week. Last Friday I took the kids swimming with our homeschool group and afterwards when my legs didn't have the strength to carry me up and out of the pool without some herculean effort, I realized that we weren't done being sick.
Which really stinks because there is SO MUCH TO DO around here! Kids need help with schoolwork, gardens need planting, tree roots need digging, laundry needs doing, floors need swabbing... All I have the energy for is creeping between bed and bathroom, coughing my brains out.
One night around midnight I was so violently ill that J put me in a taxi with instructions for them to deliver me to Emergency. (There was no point in waking up 3 kids to sit around the hospital and they're too young to be alone.) Twelve long hours later, x-rays, blood and urine tests reported that I didn't have strep, mono, or a chest infection. One nasty UTI though - and I was sick enough to accept a prescription for antibiotics whereas generally I would try to recover with apple cider vinegar baths and essential oils.
So J and the kids picked me up to continue my sleeping/sweating/shivering/coughing routine at home. I must say, the food is better here. Even though I am still far from productive, today is the first day I feel the tiniest bit human again. It's almost noon, and I'm STILL UP! The super irritating thing is that this is the week of our circuit visit. If I'm able to be at the Sunday meeting it will feel like a grand success.
Meantime, some things went on. Like a certain amount of schoolwork which I directed in a whisper-shout from bed. Good thing I had this month pre-organized, with all assignments printed out already.
There was one afternoon where we all laid on quilts in the back yard and the kids ate lemonade popsicles.
This sweet little girl spent several hours throwing up a week and a half ago. Apparently she thus purged all the nasty cold and flu germs that the rest of us allowed to percolate through our sorry bodies. So she has been happily skipping about the backyard, breathing deeply and enjoying the sights and smells of early summer.
And a certain 3 year old who puts his mother through the Frequent Tantrum wringer occasionally (okay regularly) does things sweet enough to allow himself to be forgiven and loved all over again.