Twins and I were waiting in the van for Dalton to get off the bus on Friday so we could go run some errands. He jumped in and announced that his head hurt and that he couldn't wait to get home, put on some pajamas, and "rest my head." I thought that was kind of a weird thing to say, but I wasn't too concerened. A little later, while running the errands, he asked me, "Mom, what's the flu?" I explained what it is and asked why he wanted to know. "Cuz some of my friends at school are out cuz they have the flu." Should've been clue number two, but it didn't register. Then we picked up Brenna, and we all went home. When we pulled into the driveway, Dalton said "I can't wait to go inside and run myself a nice hot bath. I might even put a cold washcloth on my head to make it feel better." Brenna turned to me, confused, and made a very rude and yet hilarious comment about him turning into a girl. I STILL didn't think to check the kid's forehead. He took his bath, wrapped himself in a giant blanket (and it was warmish!) and laid down on the sofa, and that's when I saw it. Whenever he gets a fever, his eyes turn down even more than they normally do, and they sink back in his head. Charles saw it at about the same time I did and said "Does he have a fever?" Sure enough, he was burning up.
I told him to go watch movies in his room and stay there so he'd be away from the babies. They have had flu shots, but you know how it is, there's so many different strains, it seems like people always get it anyway. And everyone in our house has taken turns being sick for the past month or so, so here we go again. Also, the babies have had diarrhea for 2 days straight, but I'm telling myself they're just teething. They get all pitiful when they've had an "episode," and they come to me wanting to be picked up. I pick them up, and then get a whiff, or worse, feel something wet. Twice now I've had to change my own clothes. That's always fun.
So today, we missed service (but everyone slept in till 11 and it felt great!) and we also had to cancel plans we had to go to someone's house for dinner. Bren and I waited till the babies went to bed and snuck off to Target to look at things we want but can't afford and then to the frozen yogurt place to make sure we, and when I say "we" I mean of course I, don't waste away to nothing for the winter, cuz that would be unfortunate. Brenna made jokes the whole time about how cool she is and how all her friends are probably so jealous, getting to hang out with her mom on a Saturday night at Target. But I swear, to me there is nothing quite as fun as when the two of us are together and alone in the car and can sing along to the Shakira cd and imitate the parts where she sounds like a goat, the parts where she sounds like Kermit the Frog, and even imitate the guitar. Or when we're walking through the store and we pass someone who's doing something (talking too loud on their cellphone, or some stupid teenage boy acting a fool to impress his friends, or a goth and highly unbathed couple looking at Twilight posters, etc...) and we don't even say a word, we just meet eyes and share our opinion via meeting of the minds. It's so cool to have a younger, cuter, smarter, thinner, better-at-math version of myself to hang out with!
Later, we'll watch SNL together and then quote the funny parts to each other for weeks. Also, we both have that Raynaud's syndrome thingy where are feet and hands are always frozen from poor circulation. So when we watch SNL together we will both try to stick our feet under the other's hiney for warmth. It's a tradition.
Behind me there are nasty, nasty high chairs and a nasty, nasty floor beneath them where earlier, while "eating" dinner, Aila decided to throw meatloaf, green beans, and pickled beets. I am so sick of cleaning up those kinds of messes, I just left it there and went to Target. Now I'm leaving it there and typing. I should probably go clean it up. *Sigh.*
So if you don't hear from me for a few days, it's because I'm back in sick kid land. Checking temperatures, changing poo diapers, and stepping in pickled beets.