Contrast

On Friday the thirteenth, Jay didn't have school. One of my favorite kinds of days: just me and my kids. Of course it's always best when Jeff is with us too, but my selfish side does enjoy having the kids all to myself every now and then, when they aren't being too crazy. At Jay's request, we drove 4-ish miles to Sunnyview Park to play that morning. Since Grandview has at least four really good parks, we rarely venture outside our own borders for park time, but a day off school deserves a little excitement, so we went out of town (barely, ha). It was a beautiful sunny day and the kids played and romped all over the place. The highlight was the rocks in the playground area--Grandview parks all use mulch, but Sunnyview Park uses rocks. The kids dug in the rocks, collected the rocks, and rolled handfuls of rocks down the slides (cool sound).

 Sending rocks down the curvy slide

Eventually we made our way across the big field to the skate park. Jay was in heaven, running up and sliding down the ramps. Rose had a bit of a harder time getting up in her no-grip boots--she picked her shoes and who was I to stop her wearing boots in 75 degree weather? Amber got tired and rested in the stroller while the big kids ran the ramps.

Dirty knees, rosy red cheeks, best friends.

When we got home from the park just after 11am, we filled up the freshly patched kids pool in the backyard (cue motherly-sternness whenever the kids whipped the hose spray towards me in my clothes--arg, it happened repeatedly before I retired indoors). They played and "swam" for another hour-plus and then I brought PBJ, carrots, and chocolate milk out onto the back porch for them to eat while they dried in the sunshine. I felt like it was one of those days that childhood is MADE of, you know? Park, freedom, water, picnic, and of course a post-lunch movie.

Contrast that blissful Friday the 13th with Tuesday the 17th: On the way home from soccer practice, Rose puked in the car and started completely freaking out about it. We were all hot and tired and her meltdown plus the rank scent of vomit wafting through the van were NOT happy or blissful in any way. Rose barfed a few more times that evening/night, and then I woke up feeling awful around 2am, finally dashing into the bathroom to hurl at 4:30am. I proceeded to barf 18 times over the next 8 hours and it was pure misery. In 11 hours, I heaved 19 times--a new record even for me. Can we say horrible pregnancy flashbacks? A few hours after I first puked, Jay started puking and pooping everywhere too. We were a mess. Jeff the superstar stayed home from work to take up the role of Wellness Jeff on Wednesday, only to contract the vicious plague himself on Thursday. I was utterly destroyed from my barfy day but Jeff was worse so I did my best to take care of the kids. Movies, movies, movies! Rose seemed to be on the mend until she suddenly spewed a vile smelling egg-y puddle on the carpet by her bed on Thursday night. I was so drained by then, I sobbed and cried while scrubbing it up. It was one of many low points this week.

Friday found us all limp, exhausted, and dehydrated. [Amber had the mildest case--hers came first on Monday night with a few little barfs and some lingering runs.] We all stayed holed up in our germ-infested Petri dish of a house and simply survived, sipping water, juice, and soup, and eating otter pops. My abs and entire trunk were achingly sore from all of that effort they put into expelling things from my stomach. On Friday I wondered if Jay would be interested in having his birthday cake and dinner the next day. I hobbled to the store, got the ingredients, and made a small birthday cake just in case.

{We had a very low-key, quarantined celebration for Jay's birthday. Pictures pending.}

Possibly the hardest time to be a parent is when both parents are sick at the same time as the kids. It was such a long hard week, but mere days before the illness descended, we were frolicking at the park and visiting the Twin Sisters. Looking at pictures from those two events, I can't help but marvel at our apparent ease and ignorance. We had no idea what was about to happen! Kind of like when I read a story set in 1928, I think "wow, they were so carefree--they had no idea what was coming next year!" (the Great Depression and all that) As much as I like to plan and prepare, I'm actually very glad that we never really know what's coming next. It helps me enjoy the moment!