Apparently, I’m the only healthy one left in my little family. Feels like survival of the fittest. The smallest was the first to fall… and then the proudest. Mwahahaha!

But seriously, Lola is doing much better. No more projectile anything (thank GOD!) but she’s still not quite herself– she still needs meds, weird food, and a towel underneath her when she sleeps. Her limp just breaks my heart, but she will heal.

My husband, on the other hand, acts like he’s on death’s doorstep. Actually, that’s not true– he alternates. He’s on death’s doorstep, and then he’s giddy like a schoolgirl. I think it’s when he’s high on the multitude of meds he insists on taking. He has this hydrogen bomb analogy when I talk to him about the amount of meds he’s putting into his body. He keeps whispering something about “scorched earth”. It’s weird over here right now.

Needless to say, Mommy has a glass of wine right now while caring for her beleaguered crew, especially after the day with the munchkins she just had. Great. Now she’s talking about herself in the third person. Maybe she should lay off the wine…

Everyone will be fine. Lola will heal and stop needing to lay on towels and Brian will realize that a cold is not the same as the Grim Reaper, and normalcy shall return.

Since I’ve mocked him relentlessly in these few paragraphs, I should say that Brian really is ill. He’s just not the best patient– and he knows that. But it turns out, he’s a very good caretaker. So, when he heals and I catch whatever he has, I know I’ll be in good (and less sarcastic) hands 😉

Say a prayer for the Lundin household tonight– I’d appreciate it.