You lot, I was dying. I think. I certainly felt like I was dying. I had one kid sick in the beginning of the week and we were in the clear. Right up until we weren't. I managed to feed everyone dinner and get the little one to bed. The boys each got a tablet and a timer. We all climbed into bed and I was sure the end was near. The next 36 hours are, at best, a blur. We all survived. But it was a battle.
I don't know what I had but I was out of it. I was asleep by 6:30 with the boys in bed watching shows. I hope they attended to the timer and put the screens away when it was time. But honestly? I don't care. They slept through the hours of my puking in a bucket. No need to look too deeply at the why. I was so sick I couldn't even take the boys to school. Though there was only one that was well enough. I probably should have called someone to take them. That was brain power I simply didn't have.
When I finally came to, this was our sink. The momma was out for 36 hours and the boys used, oh I don't know, every dish we have in the house. For cereal and yogurt and frozen waffles and pb&j and probably more candy than I want to know about. Listen, they ate. I am grateful. The dishes actually made it into the sick. I am shocked. They didn't wash anything. Not surprised. They haven't been taught how. I have now added that to my Momma To-Do list.
I wasn't struggling alone. When the wasband c/wouldn't leave work to come help, our long-time sitter canceled plans and rescued B with some time away from the infection site. Ironic since he was patient zero. But she came and snapped him up. They had dinner and even went and did some family Christmas shopping. From what I understand/remember, they had a grand time. I fed the two I had with me and even managed to teach that night. Sweating and puking my way through class. No. I don't know how I did it. Mostly because it was a fog. But also because you just do. Or I just do. Plow ahead. Minute by minute. Breath by breath.
That being said, totally cool if this episode never repeats itself. It wasn't graceful or hopeful or enjoyable. But it is over. Nothing lasts forever. Good thing in this case.
Please tell me I am not the only one who has ever had their sink look like this. Listen, it is a rarity but it happens. And, to me, it was worth a photo. Not the beautiful clean farm sink with the artfully arranged tulips of Instagram. Nope. That wasn't what was happening. Good for those people. Hot damn, I love a farm sink. But this pic is life, too. A moment of it. A moment of my life. And it looks like survival. Next.