We've been pretty pathetic around here since I last wrote. There's a nasty virus hanging around and the kiddos have all been suffering in varying degrees depending on the hour -- culminating with a vomiting Maisy for the past couple of days. The good news is that despite all the boogers still drooping, we seem to be on the upswing. (I hope!) It's been a good (bad) two weeks of sickness now, pretty much quarantined in the cabin, and I am over it. Times like these make me wish for a troupe of friends and family that would swoop in with some home cooked or take out dinners and therapeutic bath soaps or sick baby holding services. But alas, I am here alone washing puke and poop out of clothes day after day, scrounging up supper and not doing the dishes night after night. (Except when Grandma and Uncle Matt were visiting -- it was so good to have you guys!)
It's a sad scene, folks. And it's turning into a bit of a pity party, which needs to stop. Because honestly, as bad as it's been at times, there has not been one moment when I wished it all away. Because the caring for sick children times are actually some of the most precious times in life I think, times when we can express our love for our littles in the truest way. Up all night with a miserable baby, the only person who can comfort her? A blessing. This is my chance; the window won't be open for long; I'll soak up the well days and the unwell.
This is a series of photographs I call cute misery, scenes from sickmas 2014.
Maisy is the most boogery baby ever. This snot bubble's not too shabby but her biggest was the size of a golf ball, no joke.
PS. On the same day I cried here about being bulldozed by God, my dear high school friend Jamie was in a horrible car accident. Say a prayer for her recovery.