We have been decimated by the flu that Dagny brought home and shared with the rest of us. As far as the flu goes, it could be a lot worse (I've had to reassure Dane that he does not have the "swine plague") but we are unaccustomed to being sick, especially all at the same time. I have been lucky to have uncommonly healthy kids. They usually get sick about once a year and that's it. I tend to get sick more often, but as you know, mothers aren't allowed to be sick. There is still laundry and dishes to do and people to feed; the responsibilities don't go away just because you're at death's door. This time around it was a little bit different, my kids are old enough to fend for themselves, I was allowed to be just a little bit sick.
Steve and Dagny are very independent people, and that doesn't change when they're sick. They don't like to be babied or have things done for them, they don't even want you to bring them a drink, they like to do it themselves.(lucky for me, huh?) Dane and I are different, we like people bringing us things and taking care of us.(we're quite a pair)
Since Saturday night all the four of us have done is watch movies and football, eat popsicles and sleep. Being the hunter gatherer that he is, Steve would occasionally make a foray out into the world to procure more popsicles and Hot and Sour soup, other than that we have been under quarantine. It's difficult for us Type A's to be sick; Dagny is freaked out about missing school and dance, Dane is worried about missing football, Steve is frustrated by his lack of energy, and me, I'm freaked out about all their stuff plus mine. I've been told to just let it all go and allow myself to be sick, thereby letting myself heal. That's easy advice to give, but not easy to take when you have the Mt. Everest of laundry at the foot of your bed.
*notice how I didn't include any pictures of the sick people? You're welcome.