Sicko

This was the children's breakfast on the day I was sickest.
I know, it's mac and cheese, but at least it's organic, and they were fed!

I feel like I've been letting down my readers (yes, both of you!) by not posting more frequently. I have this morning ritual I think of as "blog role call" where I systematically check all the blogs I read, hungry for new posts. A little obsessive? Maybe. But clearly a harmless diversion. I get so excited when someone has posted something new. I can't help but feel a little guilty that maybe I could be adding a little spark to someone's day by providing a few minutes of fun reading more frequently. But I do have a good excuse this time. The plague swept through our house.

There's nothing like being sick to remind you what being sick is like. I'm extremely lucky to be of good hardy stock, and that my mother breastfed me before it was cool. I rarely get sick. Around Christmastime, both kids and Jon came down with something, but I was unscathed. Then, last Tuesday, Zephyr seemed to be a little warm around bedtime. His forehead never even felt warm enough to bother with the thermometer, and by Thursday he was well enough to go to open gym. Mostly, he wanted to lie around on my lap, which, I'm happy to say, I allowed. It hit Jubi and me on Friday. It was mostly body aches, plus a fever and chills. I trudged through the morning, taking Zephyr to his gymnastics class and the library, before succumbing, a little guiltily, to acetaminophen around noon, which successfully wiped out all symptoms. Saturday was a busy day of farmers' market-breakfast with friends-Lowe's building project-trip to the movies-grocery shopping-birthday dinner with friends. I feel like I made it though all that without too much trouble. Well, there was the two hour block of time when I suddenly lost my voice. ("Mommy," Zephyr speculated. "I think your voice turned into a spirit.") But it wasn't painful. Then- I was slammed. Jubilee couldn't sleep Saturday night, and oddly, I couldn't, either. She and I stayed up manically until 3:30 am, and woke up Sunday feeling like a nightmare.

Throbbing head, chills, weakness, nausea, sore throat, severe congestion, and, to add insult to injury, I felt like I had the beginnings of a plugged milk duct. For most of the day I only ventured out of bed to use the bathroom, and only when I really really couldn't put it off. Jon, luckily, felt good enough to take care of the kids while periodically bringing me helpful things like honeyed tea, zinc lozenges, and the constant encouragement to neti. Zephyr crawled in the bed with me and kept me warm through a long nap. Carrie and Char brought miso soup, Nyquil, and kind sympathy. Kamy, who had just gotten over the same crud, brought cough drops, zinc nasal spray, and explicit proof that my body would heal. As evening drew near, I contemplated the Nyquil. It had been years since I'd even considered taking cold medicine. I called Renee, keeper of our La Leche League group's Medications and Mother's Milk, to get the 411. She read me the entry, which indicated that my nurslings might become more sedate (score!) and that my milk supply might decrease, which I decided I could live with as well, if it was a trade for a good night's sleep. Monday I'd be teaching my first class of the semester, and I wanted to be as well for it as possible.

The Nyquil certainly took care of the symptoms, but wow, what a circus. I had crazy revolving door dreams about vampires and polygamists (I've been reading the Twilight series and watching Big Love) and never really felt like I was truly resting. Also, Jubilee was anything but sedate. She was miserable, so Jon was up with her several times, bringing her back when she wanted to nurse. I would become just conscious enough to get her latched on before plunging again into my fitful sleeplike state. I had been worried the drug's effect would wear out halfway through the night, but I still felt loopy at 1 pm Monday. "Let me go teach your class," Jon tried to persuade. "I'll refer to you as 'Dr' and pretend I'm a grad student." I could tell he was slightly jazzed by the idea of putting his acting skills to the test, but honestly, when it comes to teaching the first night of a college course or staying home alone with two small children, the first option is easier to face with a Nyquil hangover.

Forgot to mention- decreased milk supply? It was totally gone. The numnums were shockingly empty. They were a size I hadn't seen since the middle of '03. They were a size I had forgotten they ever were. At least I didn't have to worry about leaking while teaching. About 36 hours later, they began filling up again. I'm glad I didn't have an exclusive nurser to answer to.

Anyway, the class went well. The group seems very nice, and I assured them that usually I'm quite brilliant. And every day since then I've felt slightly better. I even have enough energy now to think about the less pressing issues of those dark days, namely Zephyr's poop strike and Jubilee's mysterious but mild rash. I'd say I'm 95% healthy. Jubilee seems to be much better as well, especially since the milk came back in. Jon is fighting the plague tooth and nail, using a heating pad on his aching lower back and asking the kids to beat on his back when he feels something in his chest. And, of course, using the neti pot every 15 minutes or so.

I wasn't planning to make today's blog all about sickness, but it's now 5 hours later, and we have to leave for a board meeting in a few minutes. I will leave you with a conversation that I overheard that made me chuckle, even while in the throes of the illness.

Zephyr, never one to respect closed doors, found Jon in the bathroom.
Z: What's that crack in your penis?
J: Crack? Oh, that's where my parents had a part of my penis cut off when I was a baby. We didn't have any of your penis cut off because we knew you were born perfect.
Z: (pause) How do penises get that big?
J: (you can hear the grin in his voice) It takes years.