So the past few weeks have been so not fun. First Emmy had the flu, I guess, for about 4 days. Then Lucy came down with a nasty cough. Then Miles had a nasty cough. Then the rest of the kids (Lucy had recovered from her original cough) and myself came down with head colds. Not too bad, but definitely an annoyance. And while the boys seem to have pretty much made a recovery, the little girls are getting there a little more slowly. But they are getting there. Ben finally succumbed to the cold last Friday. And we (Ben and myself) are doing horrible. It (the big, bad, nasty beast of a cold) seems to get worse each day (and especially each night. ohhhhh the nights. . . ) for us. Sore throats, ear aches, inability to sleep for a few-hour stretch at night, blah, blah, blah. I keep thinking that it's gotta get better. It just hasn't. I just hope and pray my eardrums don't rupture as they have before. Ouch.I had done as much dinner-prep as I could while holding her. (And, yes, there are plenty of times that I don't hold her and she just has to cry it out. . .) But now it was time to roll-out the pizza dough and that was just too much with her in my hands. So I sort-of safely and perhaps sort-of unsafely, put her up on the counter next to me. Scooted her way back. While I was rolling, she found the brown sugar spoon (that had crusted brown sugar on it) and went to town. In fact, she was so content that, when I was done rolling, I lifted her off the counter and plopped her down on the stool - spoon included, of course. And finished up with making the pizza and even with setting the table. Awesome.
But it's been rather exhausting for me. Not only am I surrounded by sick kids, I don't feel particularly grand myself. And the girls have just been so needy. Especially Lucy. Oh especially Lucy. She's fine if she's being held, and on a few other rare occasions, but man she just wants to be held. Which would truly be delightful. . . if she were an only child, dishes weren't stacking up on the counters, and dinner didn't have to be made.
Which leads me to my picture:
A mom's gotta do what a mom's gotta do.