Plans

Note: I began this on Sunday, but only finished it today, on Wednesday, hence the reference at the end to Monday...

We have been stuck in a vortex of sickness for the last two weeks now, hence no touching birthday/Christmas/New Year's posts. (Perhaps that's better, since I was becoming a little maudlin over my 30th birthday, and it's impossible not to go over the top with thoughts about the close of a year and the start of a new one.) Really, nothing has gone as planned the past month. I have always arranged our school schedule so that we can take all of December off (reasoning that we won't get much of anything academic done that month anyway, so it might as well be planned so that I don't have to feel bad about it!), and my plans for this December break were to make the month a deliberate time of refreshment, renewal, and...house-scouring, the last of which sounds dreary, but the cumulative effect was supposed to be an orderly environment ready for a re-established routine of happy learning and pleasant cooperation around the house.

In my head, on December 1, this didn't seem so unrealistic.

We might have had a little of it, though, if we hadn't completely derailed. It all began around the middle of the month when Dave had to go to Cincinnati to work for a week. We had suspected he would have to go, and rather hoped for it, since it was either work there, or hardly work at all, but we thought he was going early in the month. When we heard he was going to be gone the week before Christmas instead, we crammed in some frantic Christmas shopping, and I tried to do what I could to be ready for a week on my own. And I was looking ahead to not just any week, mind you. Because I had thought Dave was going to be gone earlier, I had previously volunteered for a variety of things for the very week he actually had to leave. ("Sure, I'll make a cake for the AWANA Christmas party!" "Why don't we have Girl's Club here, and make it a cookie decorating party!") It turned out there were a couple of days that week that I never sat down (unless it was in the car) until late in the evening. (To make it even a little more interesting, just half and hour before all the Girl's Club members and their mothers arrived for the aforesaid cookie decorating party, there was a lightsaber incident that involved a good deal of blood and a black eye - thankfully a few butterfly closures were all that was needed.) By the weekend (with Dave still gone and not scheduled to arrive back home until two days before Christmas), I was definitely ready to head up to my mom's to celebrate my 30th birthday and to have our family Christmas get-together. Of course, sometimes the big push to get away somewhere is harder than it's worth - I had to pack for five people and get all our animals settled for the weekend (which involved a last minute chase after our beagle, who was enthusiastically chasing some escaped chickens). But I wasn't about to spend my birthday cleaning, cleaning, and cleaning my house some more, so even if just for escaping that, the trip was worth it. :-)
The last day we were there, however, Drew had a fever and malaise that was the beginning of our descent into a haze of sick days. For three days he had no energy and no appetite, which finally prompted me on the fourth day, Christmas Eve, to take to him to the doctor. The doctor suspected he had adenovirus, which, it turns out, feels just like strep throat, only without the possibility of taking antibiotics to feel better. But by Christmas morning Drew seemed to be doing better, and everyone else was well, so we decided to go ahead and drive up to Dave's sister's for the afternoon, reluctantly breaking our vow to stay home on Christmas day. Having done our duty, we returned home that evening exhausted. The next day, I began to feel a little under the weather, but insisted that I would be okay for our scheduled trip to Atlanta, for an extended family reunion, the next day. I didn't feel at all well the next morning, but we piled in the car and drove down anyway, visiting Zoo Atlanta as planned (I'm sure it would have been great if I hadn't felt like death!) When we got to our hotel later that afternoon, I crawled into bed, and Dave wrangled with four restless kids. That night, Ryan spiked a fever, and we considered just going home that morning. But we had pushed through so far, and so we dragged ourselves to my uncle and aunt's house that afternoon, and made an appearance for a few hours, before finally getting back in the car for the four-hour ride home. Ryan was supposed to have had surgery to remove his adenoids the following day, but of course that was out of the question, so Monday (when Chase also became feverish and fussy), and then Tuesday, and then Wednesday were a blur of sick days. I finally began to feel a little better on New Year's, but the little boys were ill all through the weekend. They also developed a cough, which Drew then caught, putting him back in bed on Saturday. All this time, Aimee remained unscathed, until Sunday morning, when sitting in church with me, she took a downward turn rather suddenly. I
brought her home and put her to bed, where she has been since.

So much for my plans for December. Of course I didn't get a thing organized, planned, or cleaned, and was dismayed to realize that Monday was the day we were to start school again, when I had nothing at all ready. I couldn't - and still can't, in fact - even see my dining room table (so called because it was my grandmother's dining room table, not because we actually dine on it!) on which we usually do school. And with the kids still sick or recovering, I can hardly expect much from them (we have done a little with Drew, though - more on our first day later). I should have learned by now not to make such grand plans, but at least I think I've learned to take it all in stride - somewhat! Ah well, life goes on whether I'm ready for it or not.