One Flu Over the Cuckoo's Nest

After seeing all my local Facebook friends lamenting about the various illnesses that were wreaking havoc in their households, I should've been prepared. Gone to the store to pick up Lysol wipes (product placement-they're paying me handsomely for this plug), a new puke bucket, or something. I even had the audacity to brag about our good health this winter AND THEN REFUSED TO KNOCK ON WOOD AFTER BEING WARNED. I had it coming.

All was well...until it wasn't. I couldn't get warm at first. Like, chill-in-my-bones, shivering-despite-having my-ever-so-sexy-granny-robe-and-six-blankets-piled-upon-me-cold. I had just saw The Revenant, which had to be some of the coldest and harshest shooting conditions in history, and could now feel myself alongside Leo in the Alaskian (?) wilderness, begging for that sweet bearskin coat.

Then, it went rapidly downhill. I'll spare you the details because I'm a klassy lady, but I haven't felt that horrible in quite sometime. I didn't move from my bed for days, which, you may find suprising, doesn't go well with parenting. If there's anything worse than being sick, it's being a sick parent. It's the exact opposite of having your mom come to your side and make you feel better. There are little people that come to your bedside that still need stuff from you. But you have nothing to give. Nothing.

I'm fortunate enough now that my two kids, Clementine who is 8 and Owen who is 12, are fairly independent, but they still need stuff. Food, homework help, a referee, etc. I'm also fortunate enough that my husband's work schedule is pretty stable, so as long as I could keep them alive from 3-7, he could be tag-teamed in and take over. I was upfront with them from the start about the situation. I couldn't move from this here bed (yes, I'm still here, although this will be my final few hours of recoupment) and the babysitter, our dog Dudley, would oversee everything.

The big one needed to help the littler one with homework and when Dad came home he would help my son with his if needed. It was cool to hear them work with each other and overcome disputes without any guidance. My daughter can be a bit of a know-it-all sometimes, so when her homework had to be overseen solely by her older brother, I had some doubts, I admit. There were a few bumps along the way (I'm pretty sure someone was poked with a pencil), but overall they did really well. My son translated second grade math into...second grade math for his sister by substituting poop for party favors in a math word problem that went over big. Know your audience.

They successfully navigated themselves through dinner prep as well. My daughter is a huge Chopped fan so is pretty comfortable in the kitchen. She's been sauteeing and chopping (with a crappy plastic kid-safe knife!) for years now and will hopefully get which flavors go well together soon (Please, Dear God...).

(Clementine a few years ago, whipping up something we pretended was great-tasting)

She played Executive Chef and Owen was fine with his role as Sous Chef with the ability to actually turn on the stove if needed. They were able to make a crudely-chopped salad and have everything else out and ready to go for Dad when he came home. They did this all happily. They did it all for a few days consecutively with minimal bickering. They would check in with me every once in awhile to ensure I was still breathing, and to see if I needed anything if so. They brought me Girl Scout cookies and tea and told me to rest. I think we may be doing a decent job with this parenting thing.