Weekend.

Good morning, my dears. My kitchen counter looks like a homeopathic pharmacy, with honey concoctions, lemon juice, rubbing alcohol and vitamins. My poor babies are sick, and I'm crossing my fingers I don't fall under, too. Morgan has a terrible cold and cough, and Danny's been teething and wakeful for the last three nights, with a runny nose, too. Between the two of them, they've exhausted us.

Saturday morning, before the kids were super sick, Mr. Keller and I slipped away to the flea market. My favorite find was an old, old cast iron dinner bell. Rusty gold, as MW would say. I can't wait to hang it up! After we walked around there, we went to D. I., then to lunch at Wingers. Morning dates are my favorite. Later, we took turns catching up on sleep, and when the boys were finally in bed at 7pm, I dimmed the dining room light and we ate take-out Buddy's from styrofoam while in our sweats, tired as ever. I thought to myself how lucky I am to have a partner in the rodeo that is parenthood. Especially in the middle of the night, when I think I'm dying.

We did absolutely nothing yesterday, didn't make it to church. We didn't even shower until 8pm last night. Lovely. And to think I was just bragging to my mom how healthy we have been all winter! Other than this, Morgan has had one cold and Danny hasn't had anything. And here we are.

We carry on.  

Thankfully, being sick hasn't made Morgan too mopey. He's been extra silly, saying the funniest things. Friday, at the grocery store, we walked by an elderly man with an eye patch on. As we passed, Morgan yelled and pointed at him, saying "Look mommy! There's a pirate!". I was trying so hard not to laugh! He said it over and over, and I hurried down the isle as fast I could.
He's been using the words 'Well', and 'actually' at the beginning of his sentences, and it seems as though he never stops talking. Sometimes I wish I could mute him. I think Danny does, too. Last week, I walked into the room to find Morgan sitting on top of Danny making motor noises saying, "Wooo! I'm flying an airpalce!" (Danny was the plane.) And whenever I catch him rolling on Danny, or pushing him, he turns to me and says 'Me just wrestling him, mom.' He continues to LOVE grocery shopping and everytime I put something in the cart that he likes, he says 'Oh, fanks (thanks) mom! I wove (love) this!'

I've been watching Danny lately, realizing he's changing so much. He doesn't want to play with his baby toys anymore, but loves all of Morgan's trucks, tractors and balls. He can crawl backwards (tricky, right?), but can't seem to figure out how to go forward. He says 'momma' all the time, which is cute and sweet to hear. He's still as quirky as ever, and Jared and I find ourselves laughing all the time at the funny things he does, or the funny faces he makes. He's getting fiesty and vocal, especially with Morgan, and I think there will be a day when he'll be able to kick Morgan's butt. He's a hefty chunk of a boy. We even call him Bruiser from time to time. Mostly, we just squeeze and pinch him. And kiss, too.

   

{fisher price farming}

(Consider yourself) Updated.

The day Jared and I came home from Wyoming, you could have been found at church chatting with/bragging to Jen Jeppsen how Morgan had never had the flu.

I crossed my fingers for my good luck to continue. And I knocked on wood.

But apparently I didn't knock hard enough.  Because within nine hours, I was changing sheets and doing wash, and scrubbing a sick little boy from head to toe in the bath tub.

I think there might be a word for this. Karma.

And as my husband says: Karma's a _ _ _ _ _.

(First-hand experience: it's true. And it sucks.)

And poor little Morg was sick, sick, sick. For five days straight he vomitted and had diarrhea around the clock. On the second day of symptoms, a visit to the doctor confirmed he had a strain of the Rotavirus. By the fifth day, he was only a hair away from having to be admitted to the hospital to be put on IV fluids to keep him from dehydrating. Which, switching from a lighter note, to a more serious one, I was very worried. He's always been really healthy, aside from a cold, here and there. And this virus seemed to take all of his energy, and mine, too.

By day five, we decided it was time for my mom to come. She brought with her pretzels, new pajamas, and an herbal remedy that she purchased from our family's herbalist. Within an hour after we gave him his first dosage, his symptoms entirely stopped. No more vomit. No more diarrhea. He was still skinny (so skinny), weak and drained, but I was grateful to have the bulk of the sickness subside.

I caught up on lots of missed sleep. And Morgan caught up (is still catching up) on lots of missed meals. He walked around begging my mom for "cheeeeeese" and yogurt, which he has eaten by the carton full ever since.

And of the things I thought a lot about during our draining week of sickness, a few should be mentioned.

One, is that I now feel extra compassion for parents of children who are sickly all of the time. It is emotionally draining to see your child in pain, and it's especially draining not to be able to help.

Two, is that I'm so thankful for general good health and strength.

Three: I think that Heavenly Father has provided us with the means to help soothe and cure most (if not all) of our physical ailments and I think those means come from combined modern medicine, as well as plants and herbs.

Four: My mom rocks. And she, once again, saved MY life. It reminded me of old times when she took care of us all the first two weeks of Morgan's life. And since while she was here, Morg was trying to catch up meals-wise, he was waking up every two hours to eat, like he was brand-new again. And she cared for him while we slept.

A few days later, he was all kicks and giggles again. Which I'm so grateful for.

Phew!

The End.

Morg's new pajama-jams, and feeling inside out.

We've been feeling a little inside out this week. I haven't even had the desire to work on Vintage Farm goods (which is crazy because that's my thing. It's what I do). Morgan caught something nasty and has been inside out too. Which leads to all sorts of frustrations (his and mine), often manifesting themselves in less than flattering ways. Do you have days weeks like this? Good gracious, I hope I'm not the only one. (And I hope Morg gets rid of this yucky yuck soon before we both go crazy.)

Thankfully tomorrow is Friday. And thankfully we've had comfy pajamas and leftover Easter candy to get us through. Though I'm really not much for socializing, when the weekends roll around, there is one adult-ish man I look forward to spending all of my moments with.

He's sort of short, size nine shoe-size, with particularly good looks and a chin identical to my son's. 

Yes, come tomorrow evening, we'll both be waiting at the window. And we will both be wishing Monday never has to come.