We hit a bit of a low point this past week. But that's okay. Because in order to get some highs you've got to tackle those lows. It's just not a pleasant process.
Last week Jude was sick. Throwing up/diarrhea/doesn't want out of Mommy's arms sick. It's a little tough, handling someone else's barf, when you're not feeling so up to snuff yourself, but we managed. We went through several different sheet and pajama changes in one night, and I feel like I've been doing laundry for the past week straight. Oh, and I got thrown-up on for the first time last week. That was an interesting experience, but not as interesting as the next day, when I had the opportunity to catch Jude's up-chuck in my hands, while we were all in the car together and Jon was driving. Now, my husband likes to make fun of the sensitive gag reflex trait that tends to run in my family, but when I'm pregnant and nauseas I think I deserve a little slack. If I feel like gagging and dry heaving whilst holding a puddle of vomit in my hands, I'm not gonna hold back.
Jude recovered just in time to attend a neighborhood baby shower with me. Jack spent the day with Daddy and I heard all went well. But, which seems typical in my recent experience, as soon as I got home Jack's little world came crashing down. I think he cried the entire night. Wanted me to hold him, didn't want to eat, didn't want to do anything. We finally got him to bed and an hour later he was up crying for Mommy. He definitely had a fever, and I'm guessing was a bit delirious at this point because I held him for over and hour and all he said over and over was "Mommy, Mommy." Geesh, talk about heart-wrenching. He would fall asleep fairly quickly, but then wake right back up in tears as soon as I tried to move. So I ended up crawling into his 3x4 foot toddler bed and sat up in bed with him for a while. Eventually Jon took him to our bed for a bit until we were sure he was in a deep enough sleep to transfer back to his own room. It wasn't too horrible of a night after that, except I noticed a big drool puddle on my pillow after Jack left.
The next morning it was evident Jack had caught Jude's bug. He refused to eat a thing. I even made all his favorites. He ended up laying on the couch all day watching Disney movies. He seemed a bit better after his nap ... until he barfed all over the dining room rug. Jon was kind enough to handle that mess so that I could avoid another gag-fest. But the rest of the day went downhill from there. Just when I got one kid back on his feet I now have another clingy, whiney boy to tend to. It's hard to get anything done when a little one insists on hanging off your neck. Even more difficult when that little one isn't so little anymore.
The good news is that not only have I been able to avoid this whole disease (so far) but I'm actually feeling fan-diddly-tastic right now. As in clean my whole house on a whim, cook and bake like there's no tomorrow and stay up late reading a book, good. Yeah! The second trimester has finally come through for me and I'm taking advantage of every moment! My poor husband, on the other hand, has not faired so well and has been dealing with his share of "the bug" for the past two days.
If only it was an issue of sickness, but that wasn't all. It appears that we're finally making some headway with our new home search. We were about to put an offer an a house when we had some problems with Jon's orders. As in, we haven't received official ones yet. And although this isn't likely to become a big deal, my 5 years as a Coast Guard spouse have taught me better. We just don't feel comfortable moving forward on a house until we know for certain that's where we're being sent. To add to the anxiety, as a result of the looming government shutdown, we didn't even know until Saturday morning whether or not Jon would be getting a paycheck for a while. Which meant we'd be digging into our little house fund in order to pay the bills. And then we found out that the house we like has some "issues" which may pose a problem. *sigh* I thought it was too good to be true. (But I promise a thoroughly detailed post on house-hunting in the future).
It was an intense, sticky, stinky, tearful weekend for the whole clan. But you know what? It's almost over. We're climbing back up. The boys are back to their silly, smiley selves. Jon's orders are in. My house is clean (or getting there) and I have loads of energy to spare. And it hit 84 degrees yesterday. Jack may have been too sick to even want to swing, but we saw the sun, and felt it through every open door and window in the house. Today we're celebrating "Son One's" half-birthday and we have an even bigger event coming up next week. So we hit the low, we're bouncing back, and I'm fairly certain there's a deliciously sweet high coming our way next.