Last week was a week. Dave was traveling - and it was a beastly trip - Denver, San Jose and Portland over five days.
I was here, holding the rest of it together. Tuesday morning. Both kids, awake early, complaining of stomach aches, headaches. It was going to be a quiet day anyhow. So I tucked them in on the couches, turned on Netflix and checked temperatures. Fevers. Plans were cancelled.
We made it through the day. There were naps, snuggles and early, early bedtimes.
On the flip, there were night-time wakings, nightmares and a little guy traumatized by throwing up all over the bathroom. (At least he made it to the bathroom, right?)
When I got them to the doctor, it was strep. Both kids. So prescriptions were written, and off we went.
Meanwhile, I was getting texts from Dave "I don't feel well."
"This cough is terrible."
"I must have eaten something weird, because my stomach is upset."
And on and on.
He came back - went to the quick clinic...bronchitis.
So, now I feel like a ticking time bomb...when am I going to get sick. And, ooooh, what will it be?