They're dropping like flies...

Last Sunday night, Mindy coughed. It was one of those coughs that come from nowhere, preceded by nothing, and screams of consequence. Sure enough, by Monday morning, she was down and out. She mustered the strength to go out for dinner for Abby's birthday and then on to drumline, where it was all she could do not to pass out. By Wednesday, we were in the doctor's office. Diagnosis...influenza...Type B, to be exact.

Sick baby...

You'll note there are no pictures of my sick teenager...

I was threatened.

Late Thursday night, I was checking on Caroline before heading to bed. I found her moaning in her bed. As I gathered her up, I discovered she was smoking hot...103 to be precise. Hmmm...no fever with Type B, so she surely had some other kind of funk. Groovy.

Friday was FUN. Wish you were here kind of fun. Wish you were here so I could run out the door kind of fun. Caroline was a mess. She ran a fever all day, adding in just enough of a cough to arouse suspicion. And I almost pulled out the Hip Panda. I could NOT put the girl down. Mickey came home complaining that he was exhausted and climbed into bed. That might have been a red flag, but after a short nap, he was back among the living and giving me serious cause to believe he was just trying to get out of unloading the dishwasher. By Saturday morning, Caroline was running 104. So we scurried her in to the doctor, and she tested positive for Type B influenza. HUH? So apparently you CAN run a fever with Type B. Especially if you're my kid.

Not a good sign...

Jon and Mickey headed out to the Children's Museum to check out the Lego exhibit. I spent the afternoon alternating listening to Mindy practice her seal bark and Caroline imitate a leech while whining "I want my MOMMY" about a kazillion times. And then...and then...Jon opened the door and announced, "I have bad news." Really? I'm sure there's some kind of immunization for that.

Day three...same pajamas...

Apparently, Mickey picked at his lunch but made it through the museum just fine. And then he suddenly became lethargic. And barely made it to the men's restroom of the grocery store to throw up. And managed to include his shoes in his target range. Yippee. Did I mention that they were there to fill prescriptions for Tamiflu to prevent our remaining family members from succumbing to the epidemic?

Warning...the following photos are only included

due to their ability to tell the story...

We'll just say my camera is under the weather, too...

Are words really necessary?

I managed to keep it together. This is motherhood, after all. This is my job. I take care of my family, in good times and bad. I've been married for 20 years, a parent for almost as many. I can handle this, really. And then my husband said, "I'm not feeling so well myself." Oy. His headache turned into a migraine, and before long he was paying his dues, so to speak. At this point, I threw back my head and laughed hysterically. Remember that laughing-crying thing? Yeah. So what if it was a manic laugh?

Waiting not so patiently for her milkshake...

Abby, my phobic one, packed her bags and headed for the hills. She made it as far as the neighbor's house. Funny thing, she went there to avoid our germs. And my neighbor's daughter was up till 4:30am this morning, throwing up. Oh, and Grandma Dotty, who lives on the other side of us, has spent the day throwing up, as well. Mindy made her second trip to the doctor today and is on antibiotics and an inhaler. And word has it that her boyfriend isn't feeling too well. The makers of Tamiflu are loving us.

Jon wasn't feeling all that great still this morning. He stayed home with three out the four kids and tried to get some work done while I followed through on a field trip commitment with Abby's class. Which meant Jon had to take Mindy to the doctor himself. With two more grouchy ailing critters in tow. Which means you have another hilarious story to look forward to. Caroline was on fire again when I got home, and she was in a cantankerous mood. The only thing that came even close to pleasing her was the offer of a chocolate shake. She needs to eat. She's dropped from 29 lbs. to 26.2 in the last week.

Nice hair, eh?

At least she changed her pajamas...

This week will be spent ridding our home of the scourge that plagues it. I am armed with disinfectant of every shape and form. If only I could spray the children down with Lysol. I am barely out of the foothills of the mountain of laundry that now exists. If I get above the treeline, I'll throw up some birthday pictures here...pardon the pun.