I need a vacation from Spring Break

Yep. If I don't post at least once every, say, oh. . . two months or so. What? The average is every seven months you say? Okay. Well, at least the gaps are getting smaller.

The past week has been hell around here. Worst spring break EVER! Last Thursday, Val had a little procedure done. No, not that procedure: we took care of that after Riley was born. This was, well, no delicate way to put this, Rectal Surgery (cue dramatic music). Specifically, a hemorrhoidectomy. (No that's really what it's called! I thought it would have a different, more scientific-y name, but no. Just what you would call it if you didn't know what the procedure was called and were making up a name. All that's missing is the word "thingy" after it.) It was a long time coming. After 4 years of misery, with the last year and a half being almost unbearable, he decided it was time to do this. It is not a pleasant surgery and the recovery time is, well, slow and uncomfortable, as you can probably imagine. On top of the usual recovery issues (oh use your imagination, fer cryin' out loud!), he seems to have come down with some kind of virus and is feeling like he has the flu. Now I don't mind any of this. Really. After all, I do have a nurturing personality and therefore have a constant need to make people feel better. I don't mind getting him food, drinks, pain meds, any of that. Actually, he's been a pretty easy patient as far as that stuff goes. After the first couple of days he was getting around without my help and doing most of that stuff for himself. Except, you know, getting food. He has never done that so nothing different there (sigh). He has to have four sitz baths a day and he's getting kind of tired of that. Anyway, the point is, I don't mind helping out. I am, however, getting extremely tired of seeing my husband so miserable. After a week, he is still sore, sick and pretty darn grumpy. I'll be glad when things are back to normal and he feels good again. Because, we love him, but the grumpiness? Yeah. That's gotta go.

On top of this, I've been babysitting all week which is kind of difficult because my whole routine is off, what with the whole family here and underfoot. To be fair, the kids have helped out a ton and the babies love them so it's actually been easier as far as that goes, but it's so crowded here and Val has been sleeping a lot in our room which is where I put Tyler down for a nap so, like I said, the routine has suffered. Then, THEN, on Wednesday, Travis kept complaining that he wasn't feeling well. Mostly his stomach wasn't feeling good. We have had issues with Travis's stomach before, so I was like, okay, we know what is isn't, let's wait and see what happens. He felt worse towards evening and went to bed late. I also went to bed late and then Riley woke me up at about 12:30, after I'd been asleep about an hour and a half, saying her throat hurt and could she go downstairs on the couch. The couch was currently being occupied by her father, who came up to bed so that she could have the sofa. He was restless and I couldn't get back to sleep. Then, at around 2 a.m., Travis came in our room and said he "thought" he had diarrhea. Uh, yeah. To say the least. I sent him into the bathroom to get cleaned up and then got him back into bed with a barf bucket, which he ultimately ignored because, guess what. Half an hour later I heard, "Mom!" and he had thrown up in his bed. He had also had another bout of the big D so I put him into the shower while I changed his bedding and started a load of laundry. The rest of the night is a blur of puke, poop, Lysol, Clorox wipes and laundry which ultimately ended up with Travis on the couch, me in the chair and everyone else in their respective beds. Val had come back down to the living room at around three and found Riley eating a bowl of cereal and watching "Leprechaun" on tv. Yes, that movie. (Why yes, I do have excellent parenting skills. Why do you ask?) Val sent her back up to bed and took over the couch until I booted him back upstairs so that I could put Trav there to make it easier for me to keep an eye on him. I think Travis went through five pairs of underwear that night. Truthfully? I threw them away because I'd rather buy new undies than wash that stuff out. (You'd do the same, I promise.) Anyway, I felt so sorry for him. He was so exhausted and would fall asleep only to be woken up a few minutes later by either his bowels or me making him go to the bathroom. And he was so good-natured about the whole thing. He'd come out of the bathroom with a smile on his face, saying, "Mom? I think I'm done now. I really think it's all over!" Towards the end there, he really got punchy and, once, when I tried to go in the bathroom to help him, he pushed me out the door and said, "Be gone, Woman!" Then, by 7 a.m, he was magically better and feeling just fine. I, on the other hand, was a bag of crap. An hour and a half of sleep doesn't go very far. I only had Marie for half a day yesterday (Tyler's dad decided to keep him home because of all the carnage here) and when she went home, I officially checked out for the day. I will say though, that I think all of my obsessive applications of Lysol and Clorox paid off: no one else has come down with the stomach bug. I'm still exhausted, though and plan to catch up on sleep this weekend. Or, you know, that's the plan anyway. We'll see.