There is something about illness in a household of young children. Call it cruel fate and mass contagion. Cruel fate because we have our big camping trip planned for this weekend, which of course is now overshadowed by empty bottles of children's tylenol, cast off teething rings, and a lingering stench of vomit in Chops's room. Mass contagion, because what started as Bubba's feverish, listless weekend thought to be caused by hardcore teething, was actually a case of roseola...which he so lovingly passed to his brother, though Chops still hasn't broken out in the dreaded rash yet.
Not to mention our Black Lab Sadie is now nicknamed Tri-Pod, because she's only walking on three paws, with no apparent cause.
What's next? A nice case of chicken pox or a broken arm for Mommy or Daddy? The house burning down?
I know, I'm being morbid. You try being cooped up all week with two cranky, steaming hot kids who are only content when Boo-Bahs, Teletubbies, or Thomas the Train are on. You try sitting with your dog for half an our working over every inch of her toe pads, claws, ankles, and legs to solve the great tri-pod mystery.
This will be a short post because we are preparing to dash out of town to hopefully escape the madness. Unlikely, since we'll have the sicklies in tow with us. I'll probably return with tales of laughter and disaster from Lake Camanche next week.
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1 comment:
Kels,
Isn't it amazing how through all the illnesses Mom's just CAN'T get sick - so they don't. Somehow there is a built in "resistance gene" that kicks in full force once children are born. I'd advise you to get some rest - but I know what a joke that statement is. So I'll smile a knowing smile with you that these are the small things that make motherhood such a heroic job. Thinking of you. Love, Aunt Linda.
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