Ya'll.

It's been a week.
It started last Thursday with my little man.
Croup.
He crawled into my room at 4:30 in the morning on his hands and knees whispering "I can't breathe."   Pitiful.
We've been down this road before, so I knew what to do.   I love a good steam shower, but not so much at 4:30 in the morning.  We were up for the day, so we decided to head to the cesspool pediatrician's office to get some legal steroids.

Since my little man was still recovering, my main squeeze offered to stay home with him while I  took my girls to a concert on Saturday night.  It should have been a clue when my daughter kept saying, "I'm so tired."  Since I had to take out a second mortgage for the refreshments, we decided to share a drink.  Not my best  parental decision to date.  I finally realized that something might be up when she wanted to go home before her favorite group even hit the stage.  I felt her forehead and knew.
Fever.
So I did what every self respecting mom would do.  We stayed until the end and rocked it out.

By Sunday afternoon, both girls had high fevers and I was waiting for mine to spike.

Monday morning the phone rang at 5:00, which is never good news.  It was my father in law asking my husband to go to the hospital to be with his mom.  Her own mother was dying and they had called the family in.  She had not been in good health, but it came as a surprise.

Moments after he left, my oldest daughter came in my room with a very scared look on her face.  "I can't breathe."  This time I was scared.  Her lungs sounded like wet wheezing.  The first thought that came to mind:
pneumonia.
For the second time within 5 days we were back partying in the pediatrician's office germ fest.  The waiting room was full of very sick kids.

Ya'll.
There were kids with throw up buckets, kids coughing, barking, sneezing, snorting.  This germaphobe chic wanted to curl up in the fetal position.
Anyways, my well educated guess was  right.  Pneumonia.

On Tuesday, my son decided to join the partay with a bloody nose.  (I don't do blood.  Period.) And my husband rounded off the day by throwing his back out at work.

Today we attended a very sweet memorial service, celebrating the life of a woman who kept her wedding vows for 64 years and decided it was time to go home to her eternal Groom.  My girls are still (very) sick, my husband is walking around like a cute old man, and my house is a disaster.

But...
I am healthy.  Very tired, but healthy.
It's truly a miracle.

But, ya'll.
It's been a week!