There and Back Again

Well, I suppose that when you get many months behind on something, and then you go to remedy that fact, the mere thought that you are many months behind on something may just be the impetus you need to stop and get a coffee and change your direction to something infinitely more pressing, say, that book you never finished reading, and then you find that you are even more months behind next you think of it; and also, A.A. Milne has you thinking like Owl talks.

Quick catch-up: People had birthdays.

So probably the best thing to do is to forget the "catching up" that just won't be done, and start where you are.

So.

Where we are is in the midst of a stomach bug/pink eye/ear infection/sore throat session that seems to have hit every one of the children. Not all of the children have gone through all of the stages, but many have. I vacillate between being grateful that not all of the children had to go through all of the stages and being fearful that not all of the children have had to go through all of the stages ... yet.

Gideon (5), pink eye victim #1

Everyone's tired of tea, and tired of elderberry syrup, and tired of fire water, and tired of pain medicine and salt socks and tissues and bowls and eye ... gunk.

Zebulun (19 mos.) sporting a different kind of eyewear

Yesterday's snow was actually a welcome change. At least there was something different to see outside, and eight of them managed to bundle themselves up and get out in it.

(I know. But please...when it may be the only day they have to play in the snow as a 5-year old, or a 9-year old, or whatever, what's a few more days of being sick? So they said, and they may be right.)

Oh, wait. They did have another day of snow play, and here's proof.

Zebby, really wanting to be on the other side of this window.

If it's any indication how very tired they are of being sick, I had two children fighting tears over my having to cancel their dentist appointments this morning. So...when you'd rather go to the dentist...

It's just very tiring.

But there's tapioca soaking for some Boba Tea (which, yes, we shall most definitely call Frog Spawn Tea), and someday...someday...someday...well, this, too, shall pass.

Ada (2), doing her interpretive fitness-ball-chair dance. It's a sight.

Hanging around

We are (hanging around, that is), and so is this bug/allergies/virus/whatever-combination-of-nastiness-it-is.

(Both photos courtesy of the 9- and 11-yr. olds.)

We even went and got the baby swing out of the attic for Ada. I remembered another child who was sick at this age that would only be comforted in the swing. Ada seems to be soothed in it as well.

But, alas, everyone else is really too big for the swing. So we've had to fight for positions on the couches. Some of us have even been known to stretch out on the floor.

Ethan was down with it over the weekend ... a difficult thing for a preacher who must preach! But the Lord supplied him strength on Sunday; and while it was not an easy day for him, he did survive through his Sunday School teaching and the morning and evening services.

I stayed home with the kids. We survived, too.

Yesterday was an odd one for me. I woke up feeling groggy and detached and unwilling to participate in any of the day's activities. I went ahead and did school and laundry and meals, but in between I laid around and mumbled for children to *please* be quiet and go find something to clean.

They were merciful to me and even deep-cleaned the kitchen after dinner. I owe them a huge one for that!

Ethan likes to say I'm "invincible" after the first three months of pregnancy. It's really not true -- I can remember a few times when I have been down with a bug and pregnant -- but it does seem that the Lord offers strength and immunity! I'm not sure whether yesterday's malaise was a bit of the bug or due to the fact that I didn't drink nearly enough water (as in, probably 12 oz. all day--EEEEK!!! I usually drink anywhere from a half gallon to a gallon!), I didn't start my day with diluted orange juice (I have a theory that my blood sugar needs this), I didn't eat until late in the morning, I didn't take any apple cider vinegar, I got to bed late and was up with baby early, etc., etc., etc.

And so here we are. We are all functioning at about 70%. Wait. 100% for me is probably about 70%. So maybe I should say we're functioning at about 50%.

Wait.

Am I making any sense?

Wait.

Do I ever?

Well. Whichever it is, I'm off to drink a big glass of water and find something to clean.

Quietly.

Arming Ourselves

We survived yesterday.

More than survived it, really.

We got school done (actually, it was the highlight of the day! Love that!) and chores done and napping done.

Since the day was going to be...unpleasant, at best, already, with a sick baby and no sleep, I decided to say "Yes!" when the other children asked if we could please switch out their clothing. The seasonal clothing switch is something I tend to dread, although it's never as bad as I anticipate. My oldest two offered to get the bins from the attic, and then everyone helped bring drawers downstairs and sort clothing and collect two large trash bags' worth to go to Goodwill.

And since the laundry was already going nonstop, we went ahead and washed the winter coats to get them stored away. It feels so good to have those out of here!

All of this ended up being done not a moment too soon. Today is in the upper 80's, which might as well be 180* when you handle warm, humid weather as well as we do (ahem). The combination of excessive heat and everyone's allergies kicking in due to the open windows means that hopefully tonight the A/C window units will be put in.

And no one has ralphed today!



I AM being militant about making all of the sniffly, sneezy, wheezy, hacking ones (that would be nine children, their father, their mother, and the dog) drink water water water. Everyone has a water bottle. We have races to see who can finish theirs first. So far, I am not winning.

We've tried the Benadryl route, which proved only minimally helpful. So now we're gathering other ammunition: Vitamin C and cod liver oil and probiotics, and I hope to pick up some dried elderberries to make elderberry syrup.

But even with all the, well, runniness around here, no one is slowing down. School was done by 10:30 this morning. The kitchen floor was mopped! Diapers were washed! Stories were read!

I need to remember this as we go to clean the bedrooms this afternoon. I need to remember that something did get accomplished today. Because of all the chores, BEDROOMS is the most defeating for me. I look at the mess, and I think, "Where did all this come from? Didn't we just deal with all of this last week? What did we get rid of last week? How can you possibly still have stuff that makes a mess?"

Although, I must admit, the hour after their rooms are cleaned is a sweet one. They play happily and contentedly on the clear floor, sounding like characters from someone else's story: "Yes, Sister, I would love to have you at my tea party!"

"Certainly, Brother, I have spare weapons over here!"

Only, I guess, sometimes this is part of our story, too. We work hard, we fight harder, and in the end we say, "Pull up a chair. I'll pour you a drink, and help yourself to a sword."

Stomaching Today

Today I will need to exercise an extra measure of grace.

It started much too early, today did. As I write, it's 5:30AM. I have been up for an hour and a half.

I know there are those for whom this is normal, this rising before the sun. It is not normal, nor welcome, for me.

Today started with the sound of our littlest one retching in her crib. I went to her room, picked her up, told my husband I needed a bowl for her, changed her diaper. Ten minutes later she was retching in our bed and on me. Bath for her, change my pajamas, listen to her jibber-jabber. Ten minutes later...rinse and repeat. Ad nauseum. Finally I just gave up and now she and I are set up in the family room. She was rocking with me but now seems happier on a towel on a folded-up quilt on the floor.

It's hard when someone this little (12 mos.) is sick. They don't give the usual signs that an older child gives, giving you time to grab the bowl. Her sign is very subtle right now -- she moves her head. I know that she's on a ten-minute cycle, so when I see that head move at ten minutes, I grab the bowl and sit her up.

I'm debating whether to give her some activated charcoal. Probably the answer is yes, but that involves finding it, and can I do that in ten minutes' time?

I've already moved the laundry over. There are her sheets to wash, and two changes of pajamas for me, and our sheets. There will be extra towels. And there's the regular laundry. I had grand plans of hanging clothes out to dry in the gorgeous spring weather we're finally having, but now I'm especially thankful for the dryer. I know I won't have the energy for hanging.

And that's where the extra measure of grace will need to come in. I tend to be overly critical of...everything...when I'm exhausted. The littlest messes set me off. And today being a Tuesday, which follows a Monday (Piano Day and Try-to-Recover-from-the-Weekend Day) in which we had other things to get done besides righting the house, there are already little messes. So as I can, after I rinse Ada's bowl every ten minutes and get her situated back on the quilt, I'm straightening those and trying to get things back in order for when the other kids get up.

I'll need to remember to speak softly and smile often over today's schoolwork. I know I very much set the tone for the children's day, and quite honestly I don't feel like doing much of any school. But I know there will be more mayhem and chaos if I don't, so we will do what we can and rest in that.

The gorgeous spring blossoms have brought with them their spring pollen. We have several here, my husband included, who are sneezing and coughing and wheezing their way through the day with blurry eyes. I'll need to be kind to them and gentle with their crankiness.

In the end, I think it's best to be honest with myself. Today will be a challenge. I handle things so poorly when I am exhausted. I need to acknowledge that up front and then move forward, slowly and carefully, leaning on the Lord's strength and letting His grace shine in my weakness.

I'm so very glad for Susanna's reminder on an online forum a few weeks ago. She knows I love a good hymn, and she reminded me of the words of "Day by Day and with Each Passing Moment." The children and I have been memorizing it. Every day I hear bits and pieces of it from some child's mouth, often intermingled with "Onward Christian Soldiers" and "Holy, Holy, Holy." It's a great song to have running through your head, especially on days like today:


Day by day, and with each passing moment,
Strength I find, to meet my trials here;
Trusting in my Father's wise bestowment,
I've no cause for worry or for fear.
He Whose heart is kind beyond all measure
Gives unto each day what He deems best --
Lovingly, its part of pain and pleasure,
Mingling toil with peace and rest.

Every day, the Lord Himself is near me
With a special mercy for each hour;
All my cares He fain would bear, and cheer me,
He Whose Name is Counselor and Power;
The protection of His child and treasure
Is a charge that on Himself He laid;
"As thy days, thy strength shall be in measure,"
This the pledge to me He made.

Help me then in every tribulation
So to trust Thy promises, O Lord,
That I lose not faith's sweet consolation
Offered me within Thy holy Word.
Help me, Lord, when toil and trouble meeting,
Ever to take, as from a father's hand,
One by one, the days, the moments fleeting,
Till I reach the promised land.

And now, as I write this, Ada has been sleeping peacefully for forty-five minutes. Things are already looking up!

Can I Get a WHOOP! WHOOP!

So this July has brought us our first bout with whooping cough. The night I got the call that our 2-yr. old son had tested positive for his pertussis test, I drank a humongous green coffee drink and fretted the night away.

I was really worried. And really caffeinated. And maybe that's the same thing, really.

But then the morning came. We doled out the antibiotics to everyone, noted that the 3-mo. old still had no symptoms, and stocked up on juice, popsicles, humidifiers, and yogurt.

Gideon is the only one who has developed the distinctive "Whoop! Whoop!" and he handles it like a real soldier. He pushes through the coughing fit, rests for a bit, then continues tormenting his 4-yr. old brother.

It really has only marginally slowed the mayhem down. Almost indistinguishably, really.

I've limited my online time, only getting on for emergencies ("Am I supposed to roast the garlic first?") before about 8 PM. The minutes after 8:00 have been spent researching whooping cough, the pertussis vaccine, and recipes (always). Short story: whooping cough is currently an epidemic, the vaccine may actually make things worse (at least, it doesn't help: 80% of people who get whooping cough have been fully vaccinated), and I seem to be inexplicably drawn to recipes to which you can add salsa, sour cream, and cheese.  

But also this July brought us Independence Day. I like those pictures better, so I'm sticking those in here.

For the Fourth of July, we visited the Frontier Culture Museum, ate bratwurst and watermelon, read the Declaration of Independence, and found singalong patriotic songs on YouTube.

And right now, we're busy drinking drinking drinking, filling humidifiers, bleaching towels, reading books, and trying to sort out our homeschool schedule.

Happy July.

Ginger Ale and Warm Tea

But goodness, last week saw a lot of lying around.


The week started as a party (Eden's fifth birthday!)

and quickly turned into a plague.


After his nap on Sunday, Gideon (23 mos.) was throwing up. 9x in 4 hours, for those of us counting. Wait, there was only one counting?


The next day, it was Abraham (6).

I referenced the torn "Bland Diet" page taped to the inside of my cupboard and readied the ginger ale and warm tea.


I emailed Ethan at work and asked him to please pick up some holds we had waiting at the library. It turns out one of the holds was a "kit" with a children's book and an accompanying stuffed animal. Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't it seem to be an incredible oversight to lend out an item that could possibly be sneezed on, thrown up on, dropped in the toilet, and then plopped back into the gallon storage bag with its book and returned to the library?


We didn't do any of that.


But how would you know?


And how do I know where that thing had been before us? I'm not a stuffed animal fan under the best of circumstances, but the library can keep this city's germs to itself from now on, is all I'm saying.


Then Monday night, Jonathan (3) was sick. We plopped his mattress on the floor on my side of the bed so I could holler, "Use the bowl!" when he started to get sick. This was rather inconvenient, as that was the night that I also got sick, and having his mattress as an extra hurdle on the way to the bathroom proved almost deadly to him a few times.


Then Benjamin (10), then Miriam (6), then Jonathan AGAIN.


Ethan went to check on some room-cleaning progress, and found this:












So, yes. Next was Eden (5). We were so thankful to have the bed still set up in the sitting room/guest room/whatever it is now. The sick children would rest in there, and the others could play without disturbing them.


The entire week, Ethan had meetings every night. He would call on the way home and ask if I needed anything. The answer was always the same: "More ginger ale!"


Sunday night, after his evening sermon (from which the rest of us stayed home), he and I sat on the couch and breathed a sigh of relief. The terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week was over. The meetings were over, the towels were all clean, and the bowls were bleached and returned to their regular cupboards.


I went to bed happy.


I woke up to Miriam standing on my side of the bed. "I went into the sitting room and saw PAPA on the sick bed!"


Oh.


So yesterday Ethan had his share of warm tea, ginger ale, chicken barley stew, and yogurt.


I'll not make the mistake (again) of saying we're done. After all, there are two more children in this house (Lily [8] and Salem [23 mos.]), and there is always the chance that one of the previous patients could suffer a relapse.


I'll just go about fixing breakfast (French toast - this recipe but typical shape), making coffee (iced today, the high is 63!), switching laundry, and getting the kids started on seeds: starting some in eggshells and sprouting others. We'll also gather eggs, do some school, and spend much of the day outside (once it hits 50). Lily has her friendship bracelet to work on, and I've got my knitting.

And quite possibly, the day might also involve bleach and ginger ale and warm tea.


But really? It shouldn't bother. We've been there and done that; and quite honestly, we can stomach not stomaching things, and it takes more than a tummy upset to upset us.