How We Survived Illness, Cast Iron Ducks, and No Cuddling

 It was a close call, but we made it through the weekend. Actually, the whole week was a hairy one- and not just because I didn't feel like shaving. Andrew didn't shave either. In fact, the world is lucky we continued to shower and brush our teeth. Allow me to describe last week.

Last weekend (as in a week prior to this past Friday) Andrew and I did an overnight babysitting job for our friends Anne and Jeff. We like Anne and Jeff. Not only do they go to church with us, Jeff works for the same company as Andrew. Huzzah for engineering people. They are also a large part of the reason that we moved to Cedar Park. That whole week at work had been a stressful one for Andrew, with some extra responsibilities and whatnot thrown on top of his already sizable task list. And then I signed him up for a possibly disgustingly difficult dose of no sleep. Fortunately, the children are rather cute, and very fun. I watched Power Rangers with girls after painting nails with them. Nail polish is a specialty of mine.

This photo was taken by Leliani Rogers.
Her website is here.

We spent the evening running around with Jocelyn, Charlotte, and Vinnie. It was actually pretty darn fun. We ventured outside and proceeded to chase down kids on bikes, help kids balance on bikes, and racing each other around the cul de sac riding scooters and/or pushing Vinnie on his cool little bike stroller contraption. The neighbor kids came out to play too. Yes, it was a jolly good time with the kiddos until it was bedtime.


And do you know what happened at bedtime?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing dramatic happened. The kids went through their routines, got into bed, and fell asleep. WOW! This babysitting job was easier than I had expected! Andrew and I finished up an installment in The Story so that we could post it on here. We laughed as we were remembering aspects of our first few times meeting together. (For those of you uninformed folk, The Story is an adaptation of how Andrew and I met and subsequently stopped thinking not-highly of each other.) It was fun being the grownups and playing while the kids were asleep! Until it was our beditme, that is.

And do you know what happened at this bedtime? Our bedtime?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing dramatic happened. We went through our routines, got into bed... and did not fall asleep. No sleep happened.. Nothing. Nada. Zip. No zzzzz's coming from my pillow. I should clarify that Andrew managed to get to sleep just fine. He just couldn't stay asleep because I kept flopping all over the place like a disgruntled panda bear searching for more bamboo.

So basically, instead of the baby keeping him up all night, it was my fault. And he had already been extremely fatigued. By the time that we got home Saturday afternoon, Andrew wasn't feeling 100% healthful. Or joyful, for that matter. We watched a movie and went to bed early.

Sunday morning dawned brightly and beautifully, but dear Andrew did not. His lymph nodes were swollen. I gave him some cold flu medicine, a banana to eat if he could manage it, and then went to church without him. I came home early, however, when I got a text informing me that progress had been made by Andrew: "Hour two: Found banana. They still do not suspect I am a monkey." I decided that texts like that could only mean that he'd taken a serious turn for the worse.

Monday was even worse. He could hardly swallow because of the pain (see above diagram). He stayed home from work and slept on the couch. I worked around him, tidying up, writing, project stuff, and tried my best not to wake him. Usually I'm alone all day, and that has allowed certain characteristics of my writing habits to really develop. Unfortunately these habits aren't conducive to allowing people to sleep on the couch next to me. I tend to say things out loud, gesticulate, and even get up and play out entire scenes that I see in my head as I'm writing. Even while attempting to do my utmost to not disturb the sickly slumberer, I still found the odd exclamation or arm flail sneaking past my defenses and out into the open.

Tuesday is my baking day. I made a yellow cake (from scratch, of course- look for the recipe tomorrow, if you want it). We received a cake dome for our wedding, and I've been wanting to use it ever since. I just purchased my first round pans a week ago, and I was so excited to use them. While I was bustling in the kitchen, Andrew was on the couch again. Feeling even worse than Monday. That worried me. We called the doctor and made an appointment for that night.

Strep throat. It was strep throat. Poor Andrew. The doctor gave him drugs, told him to get some sleep, and to make sure that he didn't cough or sneeze on me as strep throat is contagious. Why would he cough or sneeze on me anyway? Why wait until you're afraid of spreading contagion to stop couching and sneezing on people?

Andrew was concerned that he not give me this awful and horrid disease, and figured that it might be better if we didn't get too close that night. So what did I do? I grabbed my fluffiest blankets, my teddy bear Randre (because Francis is hiding, and I can't find him anywhere- if he doesn't show up soon, I'm going to have to mark him as AWOL), put on my pink plaid pajama pants, and made a cozy bed on the couch. I set my glasses down  where I'd be able to grab them easily. I cozied into the blankets, relishing the cool air coming in through the open windows that allowed me to use my warm blankets without dying of overheating.

Now, I don't know if anyone else has ever had this problem, but somehow during the night, my pants fell off. I slightly woke up at one point, acknowledged that my pants were no longer on my legs, but entangled amidst the blankets, felt alright about that fact, and went back to sleep. A while later, I heard some clanging. It sounded like someone was going down the stairwell. I pulled a blanket over my head, cursing the lunatics going down stairs in the middle of the night. Then the clanging grew louder and more forcefully frequent.

Holy Batmobiles and Robin's eggs, there was a whole herd of cast iron ducks falling down those stairs! The noise was so hard and fast that it startled me awake and out of my senses. Do you know how disconcerting it is to jerk into wakefulness not being able to see, and not wearing pants? All I knew was that everything was fuzzy, there was a herd of something angry coming down the stairs, and the windows were open. I jumped up, grabbed my glasses and pants while levitating, and charged into the bedroom.

Andrew had woken up as well. When I'd put on my glasses, I joined him at the window to find that it wasn't cast iron ducks, but huge hail stones. While I closed the windows, Andrew checked online, and found a Severe Weather Warning for a hailstorm coming through the area, with the directive to take protective action for life and property. It was in effect until 2:45 am. The time was 2:39. It was over by 2:45. How very prompt. The excitement over, I made sure that my pants were firmly tied on, and went back to bed.

And so it continued through Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. The sickness, not the pantless, sightless discombobulation problem. Andrew stayed home sick every day last week. I started to feel less than great around Wednesday (NOT with strep, thank goodness) and by Thursday morning we were both languishing together. On separate couches because he didn't want to contaminate me. No snuggles when I'm feeling poorly? Fine. That's it. Instead of snuggling, we decided to beat the snot out of each other on Super Smash Brothers on our Nintendo 64. Yup. I'm a queen when it comes to dropping a rock on people's heads when I'm Kirby, but when I'm Link I just blow myself up a lot because I forget to throw the bombs AWAY from me.

Friday involved more Smash Brothers. Since I'd forgiven him for not cuddling me when he was trying to be gentlemanly and considerate of my health, we played team games and beat the snot out of computer players instead of each other. Mario Kart was played, and I dislike Bowser with a passion that I cannot even describe. Andrew enjoyed the game called Portal as well. Those of you who play games may have heard of it. It's a game that involves thinking. I don't get it. I like Kirby. And Zelda, I really like Zelda. We also read books and did other things. We weren't JUST playing video games all week. Mostly. Maybe.

By Saturday, Andrew was mostly better, and I was mostly worse (still not with strep, thank cheese and crackers). I don't remember what we did that day, actually. I wrote a guest post for my friend's blog (which is pretty good, if I do say so myself!) about the time that I'd danced around my apartment trying to make Mexican Rice.

Sunday, we were both tired, but slightly better. We managed to go to church, talk to people without too much by the way of faux pas, and get home and make dinner. I Skyped with my sister Megan who's in Idaho, and then with the rest of my loud, confusing, attention-loving, and wonderful family after that. I love Skyping with them. And after that we Skyped with Andrew's family. That was also enjoyable. Andrew's sister Jenna wants banana bread. Too bad she can't get over here from California so that she can help me eat the three loaves I've got sitting on my table right now.

And now it's Monday again. I haven't posted on here in a few days, mostly because I've been afraid for life and limb. And a lack of thought. But that's alright. I made a cute About Us page that makes me happy! I even put real human pictures on it! So there, I did do something bloggish this weekend.

Hopefully this week turns out to be more healthful, more hale and hearty, more productive than last week. If nothing else, I should at least learn to stop killing myself on Super Smash Brothers.

NOTE: Nothing looks the same on my draft page as it does when I publish the post. Just know that if colored words are italicized, then it's a live link. An Example: This link will take you to Michele's blog, and she has a cute baby.

DESPERATE PLEA FOR HELP:
Anyone seeing a small rose pink computer mouse should come forward with information regarding its whereabouts. It's tiny, adorable, and my favorite shade of pink. Due to its frequent exposure to myself, it has probably developed a love for bread, cheese, warm things, fuzzy things, and /or goodies. It has a little thin thing I plug into my computer, and then use it to draw pictures for pictorials. It is devilish hard to draw on Microsoft paint without a mouse. That's why this post looks like this. For the love of Pictorials, help me find my darling mouse!