The Screamer and the Stoic

I should be sleeping.

It is effing impossible, even with a Superman in residence, to catch a break when you are sick with your kids.  Or, at least, when I am sick with My kids.  (ie. While one screamed and nursed last night, the other was heavy breathing and screaming from sweaty, fever induced nightmares. And they both wanted me right. then.)

I should be in Kansas.

They adore their father.  And he is, well, Superman.  But when they are tired, hungry or sick, he may as well be mud.  No.  Mud would hold more allure, all brown and gooey.

I should eat more greens.

But, since I am awake, in Oregon, briefly without babe and obviously short-listed in the green protecting awesome-immune department, I will blog before I fall too far behind and forget.

Zia fell sick.  She was pathetic and didn't move off of my body.  Contrary to her typical self, she didn't even move while On my body.  I never take my kids to the doctor when they are sick, trusting their bodies.  I schlepped her sick ass to the doc by bus.  Even the doc was alarmed.

The next day, she screamed.  I know she usually screams when she is sick, but that's usually at night (the most logical time to scream, of course.)  She screamed All Day Long Too.  With 10 minute breaks to regain her energies, she would then launch into an hour tirade.  Freaked. Me. Out.  She wouldn't even nurse.

Of course, we were to climb on a plane (two, actually) the very next day.

And double of course, as I hauled her screaming ass around, frantically tossing in laundry and trying to prepare for our long trip, I could feel myself running into the ground.

So, amid my stress and her screaming, I called the doc.  Again, I NEVER call the doctor.  And I anxiously awaited my symptoms to soldier on so I could figure out what the heck was killing this kid's happy and leaving her with diarrhea.

Long story short?  P and I both shot up awful fevers and miserable malaise.  We have been feeling terrible, but, well, neither of us have been screaming :)

We sadly canceled our flights.  The next day, as P profusely (and silently) yacked into multiple bowls, E quipped, "And right now, we'd be in the Denver airport."  Yup.  Dodged a bullet on that one.  (As, last year, P was puking in the Denver airport.  You'd think we'd clue in and not fly during the flu filled fall...)

Meanwhile, Z developed sores in her mouth.  Then blisters swelled up on her feet and hands.  A fleeting memory from a year ago swirled.  Something about a foot and mouth disease.  Something I'd teased darling Dale about being for farm animals...  I called the doc.  Again.

So we're all down with hand, foot and mouth disease.  Or Cocksackie.  (Could that sound any grosser?!)  And the kids have wanted to both be on my body for the entire ride.  Z, screaming, P, a total stoic, barely saying a peep.  E swirls around doing what he can, bringing water, cleaning puke bowls, gathering food.  And right now, finally giving me the break I really, really needed of just sitting on my ass rather than racing after a toddler that is hobbling on her poor blistery feet, screaming for everything.  (Last night she heard P say Seth's name and launched into a tirade of "Seeeef, Seeeef, Seeeeeef." If she can't have it, she is going to scream for it this weekend.)

And, of course, she can't have Seth.  Because that gorgeous, new baby can come near nothing that we touch.  We visited sweet Sofia right before Z got sick and I was in tears thinking we'd gotten her sick.  I don't know how mums with toddlers and newborns do it.  The germ infested mixing with the innocent....

Thank gawd my little germ spreader finally accepted Superman for a bit.  I'm not sure which I'm happier for, a moment of stillness or a moment of quiet.  Because E, always with a song on his lips, has been singing the Troggs song all day, with slightly altered lyrics (making it no less annoying)

Blisters on my fingers
Blisters on my tooooes
Cocksackie all around me
And so the sorrow grows...

Yah, actually, I'm most glad to be rid of the singing for a bit ;)  I can snuggle by my stoic and blog while E sings (that horribly annoying song) for the screamer.  Funny how different kids are.