Ours is the sick house. Within 24 hours, Miss C, Amanda, and I have simultaneously come down with symptoms of the flu. They are throwing up. My lungs are on fire.
We are all feverish, achey, and miserable. Martin ran up to the base to get the American meds yesterday, admitting he, too, is starting to feel something brewing in his chest.
I spent most of the day yesterday wrapped in my leopard-print Snuggi, setting up a medicine schedule for all of us on my phone, while figuring out how to keep the younger three entertained while minimizing my contact once the Middles get home from school. But even Lola was saying she’s not feeling well, which means Jaz is really the last man standing in our house. Everyone else is flattened with the flu. He is remarkably calm, and diligent to our needs. He even made sure the pets are fed and watered. With such great care, I am hoping to be more myself in the morning.
Because while I can call in sick to my 9-to-5, this Mom gig is 24/7.