Five out of six of us are sick. Sammy is good, so far. Maybe it's his habit of running in the bathroom while I'm drying my hair and demanding I blow dry his bare butt. Maybe it's because when you get pneumonia at 10 days old and survive, illness just doesn't mess with you anymore. Either way, he's holding steady.
No one is in awful shape. It's a head cold with tons of annoyances like snot, watery eyes, sneezing, coughing, and for Wren, fever. D and I have the added issue of all these sweet wee ones needing us to care for them when we don't feel like caring for ourselves. Parenting teaches you what it means to selflessly serve others, and we're lucky to have these sweet peas to serve.
I'm amazed in such a short time how much my reaction to illness has changed. Here's a quick outline of where it's been in the past:
Pre-children: Getting sick means a few days off to sleep, read books, drink hot chocolate
After Wren's birth: The sniffles means crying for days because I'm sure she's going to end up in the hospital.
As Wren ages the first year: I laugh at my prior self and we just deal with it when she gets sick.
Ten days after Sammy's birth: CRAP! All my fears have come true because my kid has RSV and we are in the hospital!
Two days later: Well, I had no idea what fear was because now my kid has pneumonia, and it had never occurred to me to actually fear that happening to a kid who isn't even two weeks old.
Since then up until maybe a year ago: Please just don't ever let anyone get sick again!!
Now that we are in the throes of almost everyone being in some state of yuck, I have an odd peace. I know it's because my spiritual life, my walk with Christ, is in a much better place. I've matured a little, I really believe God is sovereign no matter what happens in my life. I'm praying for healing and doing what I can on my end which has included:
> drinking apple cider vinegar;
> all of us taking enough vitamin C and D to qualify as drug addicts;
> amping up on probiotics;
> obsessive hand washing and giving air hugs, which did not work because we still passed it around;
> hooter shooters
What are hooter shooters, you ask? Or maybe you don't because the name alone makes you sure you don't want to know. Well, stop reading if you don't want to know because I'm about to tell you: breast milk in a shot glass. I gave Sammy and Wren hooter shooters this morning because I didn't want to give them a big glass of breast milk in case they freaked out and wouldn't drink it and then no one else could have it because of germs and then breast milk would have been wasted which would have resulted in me completely losing what is left of my mind. So, hooter shooters. They were a success. Wren had two. Sammy wanted the milk from the actual spout and got straight up rejected because he has been weaned for a year and I don't even have a third boob and the twins are dominating the two I have. Nursing is all infants with the sniffles want to do. And apparently it's all almost-three-year-old-weaned-for-a-year-likes-warm-air-on-the-butt-first-thing-in-the-morning toddlers want as well. Sorry about his luck.
Anyway, we are good for now. I'm confident illness has hit us now so we can be completely well during the holidays. This is like a test for our immune systems. We will pass; we will prevail. How could I be wrong? I'm the genius behind hooter shooters.