A long day, it has been.
Type like Yoda, I shall.
So we're down a parent, but have gained a fever and some pukes.
Unfair trade, I say.
The boy is ill.
Started out of the blue on Saturday with a fever.
So to the couch he went for some TLC. Bland food, motrin, aminal friends, and a show.
As of Sunday afternoon, we had long since traded the bland food for a vomit holding receptacle. No food. Small sips of drink. No aminals-- they add to the laundry when they get puked on. Movies last longer than shows.
A motrin/tylenol regimen is no match for the monster fever which has turned my son into a human fireball of heat.
This is not atypical. The boy does not do mild fevers. He's an all or nothing kind of kid when it comes to illness. Also, his potty routine.
I haven't left the house in two days. Going a little batty, even for my own hermit-like tendencies.
Bedtime could not come soon enough tonight.
So I met it halfway and started the teeth-brushing and potty routine at 6:30.
In other news, tomorrow begins Alex's last week of Kindergarten. (Unless of course, she wakes up puking.) How can this be? She still thinks that "aminals" is the correct pronunciation. And her calculus is a little fuzzy.
Maybe she needs summer school.
Ah, but she will be in summer school.
School of Mom.
And mom does not tolerate any carpet-poop-smearing. I have eyes everywhere.
(And a general rule that if you have to poop, you can speak up.)
Oh, and my calculus is a little fuzzy too.
Or a lot fuzzy.
Good thing I married a mathlete.
And you know what else? He's actually a really good teacher.
He's been instructing in the aviation world for years now. Plus Pat the Bunny is a teacher, so he comes by it honestly.
Know who has two thumbs and no teaching experience?
(Picture me pointing at myself with my thumbs)