the flu

I've had better weeks.  And yes, I'm well aware it's only Tuesday, but I'm not placing any bets on this craptastic week-thus-far making a hard turn into Goodville.  This picture really tells you all you need to know.

Is that not, justlike, the saddest?  Ugh.  Poor baby MG.

But let me back up.  While this week, so far, has been low on the awesome scale, the past weekend?  High on the scale. It was a 10.  J and I (and Miss Mabes) were honored to travel to Houston to celebrate his mom.  She gives, and she gives, and she gives ... and Saturday night, she was honored as a Woman of Achievement for her volunteer work and activism.  We were so proud to be there with her and J's dad.  And to see J's sister and her husband and their RIDIC adorable baby girl.  Oh, and spa treatments.  Oh, and shopping.  And CHICK-FIL-A.  Twice.  (Jillian and I have some catching up to do.)  Anyway, it was an excellent weekend.

But even during our fun-filled trip, there was foreshadowing of what was to come.  Saturday, whilst making our fourth lap around Super Target enjoying vanilla lattes, MG puked.  A lot.  I'd given her tap water in a new city, against the advise of my SIL (oops) so I figured the water had upset her tummy.  We cleaned her up and bought her some new clothes (oh, twist my arm.)  But she kept puking that day.  And late that night, my stomach didn't feel so hot, either.  Figured it might have been the three glasses of wine and gigantic What-a-burger I chowed down at midnight (so klassy).  But by Sunday night, when we'd landed back in Durango and made our way home with the kids and the dog and the very unhappy babe, MG's fever was 102.  And a few hours after I took that temp, I crawled into bed at 8:40 and started throwing up a minute after that.  And blablabla, to make a long story short, we're sick.  I ended up taking Mabel to urgent care yesterday night when her fever spiked at 104.6.  Those are scary numbers, no matter how many times you've had a pedi tell you a fever is doing good work, you know?  One of those white knuckle, driving as fast as I could in the night down the mountain on slippery roads type things.  Wishing to God I was at home doing the bathtime routine with J, getting the snuggly little people into pajamas, grabbing a blanket and cuddling up to my husband to catch up on our DVR list.  Instead, a flu test at urgent care showed positive for Influenza B.  And of course, the first pharmacy we went to for Tamiflu was out, and when that pharmacist located a second pharmacy that DID have it, it closed in 10 minutes.  So there went MG and I racing into the night to beat it across town before that pharmacy closed.  Nothing says fun like throwing it in park, jogging across an icy parking lot and into and through a grocery store lugging an infant seat with a thirteen pound, feverish and whimpering baby inside.  While you also have the flu and feel like death.  But, we got the Tamiflu.  And by "got" I mean "WERE ROBBED."  ($120!  After insurance!  WHAT THE WHAT?!)  And finally, back home.  Not a lot of sleep was had, what with the fussing and the puking on her part and the worrying about every little sound she made on my part.  And then, this morning, we'd just sent A off to preschool with J, girls and I snuggling up in blankies for a restorative day at home, when I noticed Mabel's hands and feet were bluish.  Hi, panic?  A quick call to Mommo confirmed we needed to get in to the ER.  Vivi in unicorn footie jammies and cowgirl boots, as Vivi does, me with no coat, naughty pup left running loose around the house because I was too frantic to worry about kenneling him....we tore off down the road.  Me praying under my breath, willing MG to do the screaming in the car thing for me to reassure me she was okay, MG eerily quiet in the back.  And we made another white knuckle, even-faster drive to the ER.  They don't waste a lot of time getting you in when you've got a five month old with the flu and blue hands, I tell you what.  We stayed a few hours for monitoring, they got her on Zofran, she kept down a few tiny ounces of Pedialite, and finally, we went home.  (Oh so grateful she didn't need an IV, or worse, to stay in the scary hospital that she was none too impressed by.  Baby girl wanted to go home.  To her kitty.  Who loves her.  And by that I mean he loves her 103 degree body.  Cats.  All about themselves.)

And home, we'll stay.  J and I had tickets for the hottest show in town tonight, and a trustworthy sitter at the ready, but this mama is going nowhere until we're germ-free and the little ones are all back in the healthy way.  Poor MG's passed out beside me on the couch, snoring, catching up on all the sleep she's missed out on the past few nights.  (A good sign, I'm hoping?)  A and V are on the other side of the room, where they've been ordered to stay, in order to minimize the chances of them catching this, too.  Though (TMI ALERT) based on the events of a recent bathroom trip by one of the bigger littles, this mama's not feeling hopeful.  We'll take all the get-healthy, stay-healthy prayers you can send, my friends.  Flu's a bitch.

Andplusalso, shout out to the OTHER mother, too.  Mommo.  Who's been woken up early by an SOS call when I couldn't get out of bed to take care of the kids, met us at the ER this morning to retrieve Miss Unicorn Pajamas, bought and delivered us groceries, and held feverish, sleepless Mabel while I caught a nap here and there, done the preschool pick up, the Walgreens drive thru.....basically, she's a saint.  Thanks, Mommo!!  We have the best moms, J and I, we really do.