Valiant.

Today was one of those days that you wonder about, before you start homeschooling:

"What about the days when I wake up sick? What about the days when the kids don't want to do their work? How will I motivate them? What about the days when I'm moody and ornery and I bite their heads off??"

I had considered all these questions. I hadn't ever expected them to, you know, happen all at the same time. Which they did.

I kind of knew I was in trouble when I clawed my way towards consciousness and felt those sharp knife edges already making their presence known. Deep breaths.

I sat down at the breakfast table, still messy, while the kids watched cartoons, and flipped open a church magazine. This jumped off the page at me:

The first principle of the gospel is faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. Faith may be viewed as faithfulness in the face of uncertainty. It is following the Lord, going forward without knowing the outcome. Following the Lord and being faithful to the end are the qualities most linked to eternal life. Of all that Paul might have otherwise said in summing up his amazing life and ministry, he merely would say that he was faithful. He wrote:
“For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand.
“I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith” (2 Timothy 4:6–7; emphasis added).

Like Paul, we can be faithful. We can fight the good fight and stay the course, one day at a time. We can keep going come what may. Even when we think we can’t, we can." (Lawrence E. Corbridge.)

So that was my mantra today. I think I can, I think I can.

And we made progress. Albeit tiny. We did hard things, even if we didn't do all of them. We got the house beautiful for a showing, even though they didn't end up liking the house much. So, for today at least, I have fought a good fight.

I have finished my course.

And now it is time for some Nyquil.

Polite cough.

The Munchkin developed a cough Sunday. The kind where I said out loud to the Spouse "Hm. I don't think it warrants a trip to the Urgent Care. But maybe I should take her in tomorrow."

Three days (and sleepless nights) later, I finally decided to take her in. I dropped Thing 2 off at our co-op preschool (apologizing in my head for his constantly runny nose) and headed to the pediatrician's office. Parked. Grabbed the Munchkin out of the car and headed in.

The moment Herr Doctor breezed into the room, Munchkin started wailing--squirting gigantic tears *off* her face. (How DO kids do that??) I was delighted by this. Because, you see, a good temper tantrum usually leads to a coughing fit. So we'd be able to get an accurate diagnosis. I am nothing if not a logical parent. Doc sighed and asked me to hold her on my lap, which did nothing to comfort her. She was now simply screaming in BOTH our ears, which seemed unfair to me. He was being paid to have his ears screamed in.

Herr Doctor whistled and said "Sounds like a case of RSV. Bronchitis. Maybe both. How long has she sounded like this again??"

My good parent meter wobbled slightly in it's dial.

"But RSV kids are usually pretty happy even if they sound terrible..." he continued as he peered in her ear "...but with a raging ear infection like THIS one has..." changing ears "or a DOUBLE ear infection like this one has, it's no surprise she's miserable."

Good parent meter tilted ominously toward the yellow.

Herr Doctor now looked in her mouth, whistled again, "And her throat is really red. And she's cutting all 4 molars. Poor kid."

He twirled his stool around and leaned over her chart and started making notes, giving instructions: antibiotic, humidifier, rest, fluids. "Oh. And make sure you keep her bundled up. It's cold outside, and that can wreak havoc on these little bodies."

I looked down at my hiccoughing daughter in my lap--shoeless, sockless, hatless, coatless.

The good parent meter tanked. Red alarm bells going off.

But then I reminded myself--I had put socks on her. She took them off herself. And at least I'd gotten her coat into the car. So that wasn't as bad as leaving it home.

"Give her her medicine with food--you know, breakfast would be perfect."

Crap. Breakfast. The Munchkin looked up at me accusingly and sniffed.

I humbly took the prescription and vowed to do better. Or at least to remember to refill the humidifier with water before turning it on "high" for the night.

(On a side note, coming out of the doctor's office I saw the coolest thing! There were 50+ robins in the trees, on the ground--everywhere! They were so fat and twittering and happy. I have never seen that many at once. It was incredible.)

Karma.

The other day I read on some other person's blog about how their baby puked all over the place at the Christmas party.

And I was all "HA! HAHAHA! That is sooooo funny."

And then karma happened.

Which began the story of HOLIDAY PUKEFEST '09 at our house. I'll spare you a photo.

Because of which, I know the following are true:

• A gigantic Tupperware bowl is an investment that just keeps giving. I might start giving them as wedding gifts with a note that says "For making huge macaroni salads! And the stomach flu that will result!" I'm sure I'll get a good thank you note for that.
• "Grape" flavored "Pediatric Drink" from CVS is significantly harder to clean up than the "Apple" flavored kind. Don't even think about that "Bubble Gum" flavor. Ew.
• A tutorial on how to "layer" when the stomach flu comes to your house:
  First, go to your towel or blanket closet or chest.
  Dig out that really ugly "Bed in a Bag" comforter from 1989. Place it on the floor.
  Layer with a sheet.
  Dig out the blanket that your husband's ex girlfriend gave him. Mutter under your breath. Place on top of the other blanket. Add a sheet.
  Continue layers. If you're lucky, 2 layers will do, but I suggest at least 5 layers.
  Place sick child on top of pile and wait for the inevitable. Remove layer and start clean. No mess, no fuss.
  You're welcome.
• I married the most.fantastic.man.on.the.planet. I kid you not. He totally took the first shift and let me sleep for longer than he had to. How many husband's will do that?!
• It doesn't matter how many times you scrub your hands in hot water with tons of soap and chase it with antibacterial hand sanitizer. You can do it until your hands have the texture of old, supple leather. It doesn't matter if you only rub your eyes with your shoulder and eat nothing--you are going to get sick, too. Keep that Tupperware handy.

Remember, laugh at your own risk. Karma'll getcha every time.

Happy to be sick

So, I've been sick the past couple days, and *zowie* has it been a doozie. I even had a fever. And I don't get fevers. (This makes the third time in my memory.) As I was laying in bed last night, wondering how much one body had to hurt/ache/revolt before it was allowed to die, I remembered Pollyanna and her Glad Game.

So in the spirit of Pollyanna, I've been trying to find reasons to be "glad" about this particular illness. Here is my list:

1. I am not pregnant or nursing and, therefore, can take real drugs.
2. I took my daughter with me to the urgent care and she puked on their floor and someone else got to clean it up.
3. It gave my blessed visiting teacher a chance to magnify her calling by watching two of my children today.
4. Sleep. Lots of sleep. And that's always a good thing.
5. All liquid beverage diet is good for my weight goals.
6. Perspective. Lots and lots and lots of perspective. Because I don't always hurt like this. I feel pretty good, most of the time. And that is huge. There are plenty of people in the world who go to bed hurting and wake up hurting. Every movement is pain. Light on their eyes makes them wince. I don't understand how they cope without driving themselves and all around them crazy, but I know that a lot of them do, and I'm amazed.

Pollyanna is right--you can always find things to be glad about. Please pass the Nyquil.