It started, just after Thanksgiving, with the vomiting. Three rounds. At least three people per round. Not the same three. And, thank you Jesus, never me.
Then came the asthma. Only one felled this time. But, there was talk of ambulances and hospital stays, and on his birthday too.
Then the strep throat. All five. I went down first, a rarity. I slept for forty-eight hours, and awoke to watch Hubband topple. The children were tested, infected, and dosed with the finest anti-biotics my HMO could provide. But they never suffered. The little carriers. Though, I would rather suffer through it twice, even four times, than have to care for three children who awoke in tears every time they swallowed. Can I get another, Thank you, Jesus?
Then a root canal on a six year old. Yeah, it is as bad as it sounds.
Now, it is the pox. Poor Cate. Head to toe. Red dots. The doctor can't tell me what it is, but he is certain that she is not contagious. I guess we will know soon enough.
There has only been one week, in the last ten, that I did not have to call, e-mail, or see our pediatrician. When I mentioned this to him he said of that one week, "Oh, I figured you were on vacation or something." A pediatrician with a sense of humor.
Spring, and the fresh air, can not come quickly enough.
(The picture above does not have anything to do with anything, but it is awfully cute. And Hubband would not let me post the one of her diaper clad and covered in pox.)