Well. We're all still alive. So that's something.
I'll spare you most of the slightly horrific, nose-blow-by-blow details of my weekend, except for:
1) Chest cold, i.e. coughing up my fucking toe bones.
2) Sinus infection, i.e. OH MY GOD EVERYBODY PLEASE STOP HAMMERING ON MY FACE.
3) Double ear infection, i.e. Noah no longer getting any sympathy for his SINGLE ear infection, like WHATEVER.
4) Pinkeye, i.e. or possibly "just" the double ear infection leaking out of both of my eyes.
5) Hives from an allergic reaction to the doses of antibiotic I swiped from Noah, i.e. HIVES? YOU THINK I GIVE A SHIT ABOUT SOME PUSSY ASS HIVES AT THIS POINT? Show me anaphylatic shock and then we'll talk.
My spirit was officially broken around 5 am on Sunday morning, when I woke up with both eyes sealed shut, realizing just how sick I still was, and trying to cry because I just wanted to feel better, but being unable to cry because my eyes were fucking sealed shut.
Luckily, darkest before dawn and all that. I am feeling better, save for the sensation that the left side of my face -- from my eardrums down to my back teeth -- is being used to banish contestants from The Gong Show.
Jason and I had our dinner out on Friday, even though I wasn't feeling very well, but I was worried that we only had a short window before my in-laws' stomach bug came and wiped us all out. I was also possibly a little feverish, and thus convinced that my house had turned into the hotel room from Ocean's Thirteen, become sentient and hellbent on my ultimate destruction.
But! Feeling better. I'm pretty sure. Noah is much better (including the rash/burn/horror of the Clorox Wipes Incident, for which my father-in-law is still apologizing and I'm still struggling to achieve balance between "honest mistake" and "OMFGWTFBBQBZZZT"), Ezra is the healthiest person in the house, and Jason is messing it all up by JUST NOW coming down with the chest cold that started all of this. I've offered to squirt breastmilk in his eyes in case he gets the pinkeye part, but I think he's leaning towards using Noah's leftover eye drops. (I used both, oh yes I did.) I did not extend the same offer to my in-laws, who just officially left us to parent our children, OUR PLURAL CHILDREN, alone.
And I'm pretty sure that no one else is going to come help us out. Not now or not ever. Because we lure you here with the promise of cuddly newborns and hilarious toddlers and homemade eggplant parmesan, and then we just sit around and sneeze on you for eight straight days.
That, or we force you to ooh and ahh over barely perceptible differences in the baby's facial expressions.
Flashback! Noah at pretty much the exact same age. That outfit still swallows Ezra whole.