Out of Commission

I haven't written over the last week because our family has been a bit out of commission.

Jake was struck with the norovirus the week before last. Norovirus is basically a stomach flu - highly contagious among kids. I blame the YMCA babysitting, but of course I have no proof. Well, once Jake was sick (and boy was he ever - 104.6 temp!) Jim was convinced that he was sick too. Of course. So over the last week I've taken care of two babies, plus Rachel. Jim miraculously recovered on Friday, although we still took it very easy over the weekend and we went up to my parents' cabin. [Help with the kids. Pure bliss.] Jake didn't fare as well as Jim, and he really just got over it yesterday. Norovirus starts with throwup and ends with diarrhea. Yuck. Probably my #1 least-favorite activity as a parent is cleaning up anything that came out of someone else.

Jim couldn't receive chemo last week because he wasn't feeling well. If he did have norovirus it could have been disastrous with a new chemo regimen. They aren't really jazzed about administering chemo to sick people.

Well, Rachel woke up whiny this morning. Lo and behold, she's at 103.9. Ack. And, as luck would have it, Jim is "sick", too. I told him he'd better buck up and go in to receive chemo tomorrow because I'm not taking care of three babies. This is where I put my foot down.


You know, as a girl, I imagined a vastly different life than I am actually now living. While other little girls dreamed of their wedding day, I dreamed of a sales career and owning my own loft in New York City. Much akin to Sex and the City, except that at the time I didn't know about sex, so my dream involved having my own cat and being able to do whatever I wanted to do, whenever I wanted to do it. And wearing really cool clothes all the while.

I doubt quite seriously that my green Lands' End down vest and Gap jeans would fall into the "really cool clothes" category. And Sheboygan, Wisconsin is hardly a synonym for New York City. And I don't even have a cat - I have two smelly, giant dogs. And I was never much good at sales.

Although I've largely failed at my childhood dreams, I realize that my current life blessings far outweigh the things I thought I wanted as a child. One never really envisions long, sleepless nights with inconsolable sick kids, getting thrown up on, and having so many poopy pants in the laundry chute that I finally run out and am forced to let my son sit in a diaper while I do an emergency load of laundry. Would I trade it for a day in the life of "Sex and the City"? Not on your life. I can't think of a better life than the one I'm living now.

Although I could use a new Marc Jacobs bag, some arch-killing Blahniks, and a crisp pair of Seven jeans.