The Flu

My wife and I spent a quiet weekend huddled in front of the fireplace while our kids got cabin fever all around us. But we didn't mind the noise. We had the flu. I still feel run down, and Monica still had the chills last night. Thankfully, I think we're both past the "Help me, I'm dying" stage.

The last time we both got the flu was when Esther was 2 years old (she's five now). Monica and I were both laid up in bed flat on our backs, along with the kids, who had suddenly become remarkably well behaved. We had some enormous wind chimes hanging outside that kept clanging away in the sub-zero wind and were driving Monica up the wall, so I very VERY reluctantly went outside and took them down. I will always remember that day, for while I lay on my back, mouth open, staring at the ceiling, I felt that if I moved an eyelash I would die. When I staggered back inside my bed and its warm sheets seemed heaven-sent.

And I felt that way without having an enormous belly full of babies. My wife is a super-trooper. I trust the Lord will hold off the onset of labor just a few more days, until we can get rested.

As an aside, if you ever hear someone speak the words, "garlic poultice", run for your life!