My kids are sick. I am sick. It is friggin’ friggin’ cold outside. There are mucusy Kleenex wads, rinsed out throw up bowls, piles of laundry, sticky kid-shot cups of tylenol. There is wheezing, and hacking, and horking, and blowing, and sneezing, and dry heaving. And there is utter lack of inspiration. There is grouchiness. There is short- temperedness. There is a haggard woman who is wondering who is going to take care of her, thank you very much.
Here is a photo that always helps me gain perspective when I become pathetic. It is of my sweet baby Addie almost four years ago in Papua New Guinea with the world’s most wretched flu. (Although since she has kept ZERO fluids down today, I’m thinking we might be in a close race.) The headband was to keep her hair from drying into the crust of her nose seepage by morning.
Doesn’t she look like she’s praying?
Oh Lord, give me strength. Take care of these kids.
That’s all I have to say today.