The plague has taken me down, my friends. Everyone in the family (with the exception of Emme) has been hit. Cailey ended up in Urgent Care on Saturday and she was diagnosed with Bronchitis. They put both Cailey and Fiddledaddy on antibiotics.
Many years ago, when the kids were very small, I remember writing about a time when everyone in the family was sick, except me. I overheard one of my girls say, “If Mom gets sick, we’re REALLY gonna need Jesus.”
I’m here to tell you that we really need Jesus.
I’ve been running a fever for the last 4 or 5 days, I’ve coughed up an entire lung, and I look as though I met my match with the business end of a Mac Truck.
Seriously? The week before Christmas? I still hadn’t recovered from whatever the heck I had at Thanksgiving.
It’s all good. I still have all my teeth, no one has starved to death, and I’ve had an awfully lot of time to sit on the couch and stare at our beautiful Christmas tree, reflecting on the many blessings we have. Which are in part, in no particular order, Fiddledaddy is working, we still have health insurance, and none of the children have need of therapy.
I am especially grateful for dear friends who have stepped in as chaperone and chauffeur for my oldest daughter (who has remained unscathed) so that she can enjoy her social obligations. I especially thank Jenny and Beth for whisking her away for entire days, so that she might avoid the petri dish known as our home.
I am blessed with awesome friends, to be sure.
I am going to take the remainder of the week away from the blog (like I haven’t taken ENOUGH TIME ALREADY) to enjoy my family (if enjoy is a word I can use since we’ve all been trapped together for the better part of a week), to heal, and to focus on the real reason that we celebrate.
Have a Merry and blessed Christmas, my sweet friends.