flattened

Somehow my kids have been snuffed out by a post-thanksgiving virus that is keenly opposed to my getting any sleep.  A steady supply of gross bodily fluids is keeping me busy and keeping the little men cranky and clingy and up all night.  I was up at least 7 times last night, it got to the point where falling asleep in between explosions did more harm than good.  Thankfully I was able to cancel everywhere we are supposed to be for the next few days with relatively little angst or drama.  I'm getting better at the "flexible" part of being a parent, at least some of the time.



I spent the potentially relaxing portion of Thanksgiving weekend stressing over having been asked to teach a Relief Society Lesson based on this talk.  I hadn't taught adults in church since I was in college, and then, in a student ward, they weren't really adults, were they?  Other than one not-unkindly delivered accusation of teaching false-doctrines it seemed fairly well received.  I always thought I'd enjoy a teaching-adults-calling.  But maybe it would be too much stress (placed on myself by myself) and too many opportunities to be criticized.  Sadly I've got a personality where a dozen compliments are easily cancelled out by one well-meaning and kindly delivered criticism.  I'm not alone in that, am I?  How does one fix that, anyway?



I hope I always remember that Sir O persists in calling vomit "spit-up" because he hates the word "throw-up", and he's tentatively tried to use the word "vomit" but it usually comes out as "vomit-ing-ish" or something equally verbose.  He ate little but jello, pedialite, and popsicles today.  And caused me to urgently start 4 loads of laundry.  Yet somehow, despite being up 5 or so times last night, he could not be talked into a nap today.  And despite how lousy he must have felt, he only got really cranky about having to miss preschool.  Otherwise he showed a promising amount of maturity in the midst of feeling craptacular.  He was kind to and cognizant of his whiny, lousy-feeling brothers.  He shared, he compromised, and he watched out for them when I was spread too thin to be everywhere.  (Needed two of me today, one to nurse and one to clean up after vomit)  Somewhere in the middle of my worn-out experience today, I noticed this and was grateful.



And now, as we all begin to dare to hope the worst is behind us (I'm not betting on a smooth night though), we are all focusing on our collective bright happy thought.  There is a Flaming Gorge Christmas Tree with our name on it making it's way to our house tomorrow.  If all we manage is to get that tree upright in our house, (and maybe avoid any more vomit on the carpet), then we'll call the day a success.