We’ve had a lot of sickness at our house lately, and I am over it.
In the past 10 days, there’s been: Mastitis for me (good god, I forgot how bad that is when you get it), an ear infection and a misdiagnosis of pneumonia for the baby (which was terrifying for the four days we thought she might have it — turns out it was just a nasty cold, but we didn’t find that out until we had been giving her some liquid albuterol and out-of-date Urgent Care doctor had prescribed), a horrible stomach flu for the toddler (out each end, and not always contained very well).
Along with that, there have been two separate out-of-town guests staying with us, sick days taken by both me and Philip, and lots of general crabbiness.
It’s gotten to the point where I actually think our house kind of smells like sickness. I am desperate to disinfect the whole joint, just as soon as I get a spare minute when both kids are feeling OK.
The baby is doing much better. I’m doing better. Jack is still not himself, but seemed a bit perkier today. Poor Philip looks a little ragged from several days of solo duty with a barfing toddler. We all really, really need a nap.
Just when we get into a nice routine with the family, it gets all messed up. The baby was sleeping really well — way better than her big brother EVER did at her age — and Jack was sleeping in again, after like a month of getting up at 5 a.m. screaming every day. Running was picking up again for me, and heading back to work after maternity leave was going better than I thought (except the dreaded pump, which I also hate).
I guess the good news is we are getting all of this at once, right? So then at least we’ll all be healthy again together? That’s my hope.
In other news, I ran out the door this morning and only brought shorts to run in at lunch. Hope that’s a warm 30 degrees out there today, with no wind.