This might just be the year

Remember the movie " The boy in the Bubble?" Ya know, the one about the boy who has a damaged immune system, so he's forced to live in a very sterile environment inside a plastic bubble?

Well, every year I threaten my family that this year will be the year. The year that I force my family to live in a plastic bubble.

Usually the threats don't start until sometime around Dec., when all the snotty nosed kids at school start infecting my angels with all their nasty little germs. Schools are, of course, just one big petri dish of disease.

This year, however the plagues have already started.

Last week my oldest son was home for 2 days with an incredibly disgusting cold.

A few days later, the z-man stayed home with a slight fever and was feeling "blobby".
( he likes to make up words to describe his various illnesses).

Then, yesterday, the z-man gets a fever of 103 and white pus on his tonsils. He slept ALL DAY. The boy was one sick pup.

I hate, hate, hate it when the kiddos are sick. Especially when they use words like weak, shakey, blobby and dying to describe how they are feeling. And when they feel so bad they start crying. That's when my imagination goes into overdrive. I become convinced that the sick child is becoming severely dehydrated, has meningitis or perhaps polio. That's right, I am convinced that my child will be the first child to contract polio in 50 years. Or maybe it's whooping cough or scarlet fever or pneumonia, or mad cow disease, or the asian bird flue or perhaps they're the victim of biological warfare.

I'm a mom. It's my job to worry about the worst case scenario.

So, with three illnesses already in the books since school started, I'm predicting that this just might be " the year".

Just in case I think I'll start collecting supplies...bubble wrap, plastic wrap, tarps, air filtration systems and LOTS and LOTS of LYSOL.

Teetering on the brink

After being without power for 4 days last week and spending the last several weeks deciding whether we should build on the lot we've had for 2 years ( we've decided to keep trying to sell the lot) I was REALLY, REALLY looking forward to some coffee and gab time with my friend, Deb. Deb and I have so much in common and we actually have intellectually stimulating conversations ( as opposed to the ongoing dialogue about the latest wii game or high school drama I have daily with the kiddos). The truth is, Deb is my ONLY friend. I mean, I have aquaintances and some other moms I make small talk with, but Deb's the only friend I have that I share the down and dirty stuff of life with. I feel somewhat deficient because I only have one friend. I envy the blogs of other women who have several girlfriends that get together regularly. I suspect something about me is deeply flawed and that I am missing out on what every other woman on the planet seems to have. But I digress.

The point of this all is that my coffee times with Deb keep me sane and my sanity is teetering on the edge as of late. So, I was totally stoked about coffee with Deb.

So, OF COURSE, the z-man wakes up this morning and declares that he is TIRED and has a BAD HEADACHE. I tell him in my most nurturing voice " that's too bad, you're going to school, I'm sure you'll feel better". ( You're NOT going to ruin my coffee date).

In the car on the way to school, he's still complaining. I give him half an advil and assure him that he'll feel much better by the time we pull into the school parking lot. ( Please, God, let the advil work)

So, I'm practically pushing the boy out of the van when he appeals to me one final time. I reluctantly kiss his forehead and sure enough the little guy has a fever.

The poor guy is sick and all I care about is my fragile sanity. I very reluctantly and with a bit of resentment bring the boy back home. HE BETTER NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT A REMARKABLE RECOVERY IN A COUPLE OF HOURS. And may god help him if he refuses to take a nap.

Coffee and gab time will have to wait for another day.