Unfortunately, though, all of my efforts were in vain and Aniston came down with it late Sunday night. Sigh. We cleaned, we washed hands, we sanitized surfaces.
All to no avail, because by Tuesday afternoon B and I both had it.
Now, it's a hardship when one parent is sick. It throws a wrench in the daily dynamics of the family. But both parents?
Jesus take the wheel.
This virus was no joke. We've never been that sick before in our lives. It was horrible. Out of complete necessity, B called his mom and asked for help. She graciously agreed to come help with the girls until bedtime, even though I'm sure she didn't want to (because who in their right mind would?!) and knew that she was probably sacrificing herself in the process.
Right before she arrived, Harper got sick. Life's like that sometimes, isn't it? Just when you think things can't possibly get any worse, bam! You've got an eighteen month old crying and throwing up.
I spent a good bit of time feeling very, very sorry for myself and our miserable situation.
My mother-in-law was an absolute godsend. I honestly don't know how we would have made it without her. There is no way in the world we'll ever be able to thank her enough. No. way.
My mom, meanwhile, dropped a supply of Coke, Gatorade, and Pedialyte on our front porch and ran. Not that I can blame her, because that's exactly how I would have helped had I been in the situation. (Note to my girls: Call your daddy when something like this happens to you one day. I'll send Coke and pray for you from afar.)
And B? He's easily the best husband ever. He's the one who kept us together, who kept things going, who took care of everything that needed to be taken care of. Me? I whined. A lot.
Even though it didn't look promising at times, we survived. Things are back to normal here and I am oh so thankful. Normal is good, and I hope it stays this way for a long, long time.