beach: 0, flu: 1

We bailed early yesterday from the rainy, yet far from bland, incredible Oregon Coast. Jack has had a hacky cough for weeks - I keep waiting for it to abate because I really don't see the need for him to endure yet another round of antibiotics that repair nothing, and once it began raining as we tried to walk out to the sand for one more round of diggy/skippy/giggly, we cashed it in and drove home. Neither Caleb nor I were feeling all too well, either, having both acquired whatever weird throat/raspy cough/icky chest thingy my mom was laden with, and after we got home, Caleb somehow turned feverish and punch-drunk within an hour or so. I went inside from the back to find him sitting in the chair in our room, shivering, his face dark red, with several layers of clothes on. He told me he felt weird and asked for a thermometer, but I insisted on just feeling his forehead, which was alarmingly hot. He crashed downstairs on the couch and I tried to get things unpacked and all of the wet bedding into the wash (Jack had no fewer than *two* accidents during the night on Friday evening/Saturday morning; all while sleeping a few inches from me on a too-small pull-out large chair masquerading as a love seat, so awesome). Jack ran around in circles, yelling and throwing things. I solo-parented and hacked and tried not to put our wolf-child out on the sidewalk with a "free" sign strapped to his chest while Caleb slept.

After I got Jack to bed, a mighty struggle in itself, I crashed for awhile, then watched this old film, Country Girl. It left me thinking about feminist issues when I ought to have been sleeping, so I popped Groundhog Day in, just to stop the maddening spin-cycle in my skull. Caleb woke up at some point, at which I, evidently, in mid-sleep, asked if he minded that I was watching, a la, "Is this okay? That I'm watching this?," even though I was ASLEEP. So, not really watching anything but the backs of my eyelids. He was, naturally, confused.

Today was more of the same, and the three-year-old in my son richtered (I refer, here, to the "why" and the "no" and the "I don't waaaant to" fields of HOLY GOD JUST SHUT IT, SHUT IT BEFORE I AM REQUIRED TO RETHINK THIS WHOLE BUSINESS AND QUITE POSSIBLY SEW YOUR MOUTH SHUT *AND* REND MY EARS TO BITS, SIMULTANEOUSLY). We went out a few times to a) give my husband a chance at a few winks of undisturbed sleep, and b) to fetch more acetaminophen and, yes, a milkshake for me, because it's the closest I can get on certain days to the hard stuff, and I needed it. Don't question me. I did. This = truth.

Mostly, I'm grateful for the shower I got to take this morning, and for the fact that, just as soon as the quilt is dry (which, god almighty, who fucking KNOWS when that will be, it's been in the (granted, totally crappy) dryer for no less than three hours - it's kinda thick), I get to crawl into my beautiful, big, comfy bed of not-love-seat-pull-out-proportions and sleeeeeep. Oh, and also, grateful for the incredibly delicious fresh crab we ate for dinner, a rare treat for me; we always had the imitation crab when my mom made something requiring crab in the recipe -- the real was way too $$. Also, I got a lot of hugs and kisses from my terrifically bipolar-y child, and there was a healthy balance of laughter and giggles and general silly amidst the chaos, which must be noted, in fairness.

If you really narrow your eyes and squint, hard, at my day, it was pretty alright.

Pictures of beachy delights tomorrow. Swears. The nice, G-rated kind.

Comments

damn that flu! *shakes fist*

Posted by: flutter | August 10, 2008 at 11:24 PM

Wow, you sure have sold me on the camping! Nature thanks you.

Hope Caleb is better soon/NOW.

Posted by: Gwen | August 11, 2008 at 05:44 AM

Feel better, ALL of you!

Is Caleb like Josh? He gets intensely ill for 12-24 hours and then he is completely over it. I nurse the same miserable illness for a week, but I'm still able to (unfortunately) function somewhat.

Posted by: Kyla | August 11, 2008 at 06:50 AM

Man it sucks to not feel good on vacation. It sounds like you were able to salvage a few shards o'goodness...

Posted by: qt | August 11, 2008 at 07:55 AM

Nothing worse than a hacky cough to make people reel around in various stages of drunk-like intertia while waiting for their vision to clear. You need some chicken soup and along nap.

Posted by: apathy lounge | August 11, 2008 at 02:57 PM