Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Bless you.

I am surrounded by the infirm. Mr. Pigs thoughtfully brought it home to us, shared it with our children, who then passed it along to my mom who was kindly staying with us this week and helping us out. She was helping me by holding Pigpen on Monday when he sneezed into her mouth. And there you have it: our little home experiment on how germs spread. It kind of took me back to those blood bourne pathogens videos we had to watch at the beginning of each school year. (Rookie mistake: having your mouth open around a sneezing kid)

So last night, as I sat between Mr. Pigs and his multi-colored loogeys and my mom and her hacking cough, I felt very, very exposed. She left to the basement to sleep and I sent Mr. Pigs upstairs to the spare room. It was then that I launched into gear. Armed with Lysol, I attacked every doorknob, lightswitch and community handled item in the house. I took my Zicam, I sucked down an Airborne toddy, and thought what the heck and placed a cut onion in the room with me to absorb bacteria. Could I be more paranoid? The answer is yes. My hands are raw from the washing. I then bedded down - alone - for a good night of rest to help my body fight off this malaise.

Except for the minor detail that my children are sick. Pigpen was up at 11:15, 11:40 and 1:30 crying with teething and ear pain. Motrin and a few turns in the rocking chair got him back to sleep. My bleary-eyed self was harshly awakened again at 2:15 by Piglet talking in his sleep, 3:15 by Piglet yelling his own name in his sleep, and 4:39 by Piglet having a bad dream. Pigpen had the courtesy to sleep until 7:30 and Piglet until 8:05, thank goodness.

It was totally one of those days. When I arrived at Piglet's door, he had already done me the courtesy of removing all of his clothes and changing into his Clemson football uniform, complete with socks and helmet, but minus underwear. He charged around the room, challenging Pigpen to a tackle as I attempted to make his bed, only to find his sheets wet from his leaky water cup. Sigh. Change sheets. Note that mom has still not risen from basement.

Toss soiled laundry over railing, herd one bedheaded Pigpen and one helmeted Piglet down the stairs to search for coffee, breakfast, and mom. All three eluded me for some time as I spent a good thirty minutes prying Pigpen off of Gus and Piglet off of Pigpen. I was finally able to make breakfast when Piglet climbed into the toy box and amused himself by removing all the toys while Pigpen banged his guitar on my hardwoods. Don't judge me - I needed coffee.

Mom at last emerged, having lain awake until 4am, the victim of reverse side effects of Nyquil. She coughed, hacked, and sputtered until Pigpen scurried off to his morning nap (yes, STILL) and I took more Zicam and did my patented anti-cold dance. Okay, it's not a dance, it's a chant "Notgonnagetit, notgonnagetit" and a dapper little ankle kick. Then came the challenge. Getting Piglet to pick up the toys.

We have had some good success with 1, 2, 3 Magic with him, but due to his illness of the last week and a half, I haven't pushed it as much and he was ripe for a retraining. It probably would have taken him 2-3 minutes to pick up the toys if he were a reasonable, logical creature, but we know that's not the case. Upon reaching this third "citation", he gets sent to time out, which due to my own laziness regarding the staircase, happens to be my laundry room. Stop judging me. I'll make it a little worse when I mention that it's also Gus' room.

On trip number 1 to time out, he removes all of his clothing. This nudity and subsequent refusals to dress result in time outs 2-6. At last, he gives up and emerges, re-clad in his uniform. Getting the toys picked up took another 5 or 6 rounds in the laundry room, during which he took apart the dog bed, got the fly swatter stuck in a heating vent, spilled the dog's water, climbed on the dryer, and put the dog's food bowls in the (running) washing machine. Then, he up and decided to pick up those toys lickety split and didn't have another time out all day. This kid is one big mystery wrapped up in stubborn with a dollop of odd.

The rest of the day went swimmingly, aside from the fact that my hands are raw from washing and beginning to crack. Fingers crossed that I can survive this cesspool of germs and cooties.

Happy Turkey!

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