![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
House o' Plague
Feb. 10th, 2009 09:06 amIt's been a time for illness/accidents in my house.
It all started sometime last week when I got a call from my mother, who is wintering down in Texas. My dad, it seems, fell off his bike and broke his wrist. They had some adventure trying to get him to the emergency room, I guess, thanks to weird insurance laws or something down there in Bush land. Anyway, that was the first.
Next came Saturday, when we'd planned to have a poetry party for a few select friends. I got the idea from a book called CIRCLE ROUND, which is about pagan ideas for families. Since Imbolc is sacred to Brigid and Brigid invented poetry for the Irish, the idea is that you have a day where you share some poetry in her honor. Mason is currently very into Shel Silverstein, and has a lot of trouble (go figure) enticing his other five year-old friends into listening to him read page after page of it. As adults often have a longer attention span and I know a few folks who are honest to goodness poets (some have even won poetry awards), it seemed like a perfect fit. Except, somewhere half way through the party Mason instantly fell ill. He got very low energy and uncharacteristically quiet. He and Shawn hid upstairs and read BUNNICULA while the party continued downstairs.
By Sunday, he had a raging fever. Yesterday we took him to the doctor to rule out anything serious, and it turns out he has strep throat AND a virus/cold-thing.
Shawn, who will catch anything that anyone passing her on the street has, instantly came down with the cold. Plus, on Saturday, after everyone had gone home, Shawn -- who has a bad back that had been twinging again after a badly timed sneeze -- fell down the stairs. Of course, she bumped down about four of the stairs right on her lower back where her herniated disc is... At least she seems only bruised and not completely disabled (which is pretty fortunate, given her back history.)
So far, I'm the last one standing (or sitting and typing as the case may be) in this house o' plague. The only silver lining is that since everyone has been going to bed early (Mason even NAPPED yesterday, which is almost unheard of), I've been able to mostly keep up on my word count. (I'm not quite doing 2,000 words a day, but close enough for news time...).
The house has disintergrated around me, though, so there are a ton of dishes to do in the sink and just general messiness that needs tidying.
Sigh.
I hope the rest of you are in better health.
It all started sometime last week when I got a call from my mother, who is wintering down in Texas. My dad, it seems, fell off his bike and broke his wrist. They had some adventure trying to get him to the emergency room, I guess, thanks to weird insurance laws or something down there in Bush land. Anyway, that was the first.
Next came Saturday, when we'd planned to have a poetry party for a few select friends. I got the idea from a book called CIRCLE ROUND, which is about pagan ideas for families. Since Imbolc is sacred to Brigid and Brigid invented poetry for the Irish, the idea is that you have a day where you share some poetry in her honor. Mason is currently very into Shel Silverstein, and has a lot of trouble (go figure) enticing his other five year-old friends into listening to him read page after page of it. As adults often have a longer attention span and I know a few folks who are honest to goodness poets (some have even won poetry awards), it seemed like a perfect fit. Except, somewhere half way through the party Mason instantly fell ill. He got very low energy and uncharacteristically quiet. He and Shawn hid upstairs and read BUNNICULA while the party continued downstairs.
By Sunday, he had a raging fever. Yesterday we took him to the doctor to rule out anything serious, and it turns out he has strep throat AND a virus/cold-thing.
Shawn, who will catch anything that anyone passing her on the street has, instantly came down with the cold. Plus, on Saturday, after everyone had gone home, Shawn -- who has a bad back that had been twinging again after a badly timed sneeze -- fell down the stairs. Of course, she bumped down about four of the stairs right on her lower back where her herniated disc is... At least she seems only bruised and not completely disabled (which is pretty fortunate, given her back history.)
So far, I'm the last one standing (or sitting and typing as the case may be) in this house o' plague. The only silver lining is that since everyone has been going to bed early (Mason even NAPPED yesterday, which is almost unheard of), I've been able to mostly keep up on my word count. (I'm not quite doing 2,000 words a day, but close enough for news time...).
The house has disintergrated around me, though, so there are a ton of dishes to do in the sink and just general messiness that needs tidying.
Sigh.
I hope the rest of you are in better health.