Home for the Holidays… then Home Again

Not just Christmas and New Year’s…but everything in between. Doug took leave from the office December 23rd through January 7th. We had a wonderful time.

It was good to soak him up, every day, every minute – since I can feel Tax Season (boo… hiss…) lurking just around the corner. Before we know it, he’ll be working evenings and Saturdays, the girls will be missing their Daddy and I’ll be whistling a slightly different tune. Like It’s a Hard Knock Life instead of Zippety-Doo-Dah.

So. We had this fabulous Daddy time, Doug returned to work for one week and then WHAMMO! The stomach flu struck!

Man. We’d been doing so well!

It hit our family hard. First Eliza. She vomited all Saturday night.

Sunday we kept everyone home quarantine style.

“No! You can’t play with the boys right now! I know you want to give them kisses but not for a few days!”

“Yes, you can have another popsicle. Wait! Ali, Sami! Let’s not share licks, okay?”

“But Mom – Look! We’re sharing!” They hold their popsicles out for the other one to lick. Then before I can cease the affectionate germ-share, they plop their pops back into their own pie holes.

I’m too late.

Doug comes home from work early Monday afternoon (his stomach is a bit churny) and the puking begins. He and Ali start about the same time. Sami starts after midnight.

This is what the living room looked like around 2AM. I was Florence Nightingale incarnate – running from bed to bed, shoving bowls under chins, rushing girls to the tub to wash them off, loading the laundry again and again, and cleaning up all the nasty aftermath. We went through an entire canister of Clorox wipes and I have no idea how many times I rinsed out sheets or pajamas and jammed the washing machine full of fetid fabric.

Mis-er-a-ble.

Not so happy campers.

Doug had it the worst. He was home for a couple days. Under less fortunate circumstances I must say. But home he was. I think he felt like that old country song, “I’m just a ghost in this house.” Well, that’s how I felt about him. He was here, but not really here. I exiled him to the basement bedroom so he wouldn’t contaminate our bed sheets and I could still feed the boys in our bed. Am I mean? The girls were so sick he had to fend for himself. And even when he was feeling a little better he couldn’t touch anything or anyone. Poor fella. (He probably got sick because he did all the clean-up for Eliza! I married a good man.)

Thankfully, the boys and I stayed healthy. Knock on wood.

 

Everyone is doing much better now. I’ve clorox-ed most of the house, finished all the contaminated laundry and I think we’re past the pestilence.

So here’s a look back at all our crazy Christmas joy.

Finally.

Rhetorical Question: Will I ever be a timely blogger? Or just a back-blogger with lots of back-logged ideas. Probably the latter. At least for now.

 

We began the Holidays with the annual Pine Tree Neighborhood Party. The temps were in the single digits that week so we layered everyone to the max, took the double stroller for fast travel and made our way to the big pine tree in the center of our neighborhood.

Sock monkey jack-in-the-box for Spencer.