All I want for Christmas is to be able to breathe. Normally.

In the past week our family has gone through:

4 cans of chicken soup

2 cans tomato soup

2 gallons of juice

2 liters of 7-up

1 jar of honey

1 box of tea

1 box of saltines

2 bottles of Children's Tylenol

3 boxes of Kleenex

1 box of extra-strength Mucinex

It is difficult when a family member is sick.  It is even harder when four are sick simultaneously.  You have to compete for couch space.  Feverish kids want to lay on you, as well as the cat.  There aren't enough Kleenex boxes to go around.  Somebody is going to have to let the dog out.  And it won't be me, since I can't lift my head off the pillow without it splitting into two.

My hero this week is my 8 year old daughter (the only one well at the time) who managed to make the rest of us tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.  She let the dog out.  Multiple times.  She fetched blankets, charger cords, Kleenex and made tea.  My husband, also my hero, who was just a bit less dizzy than I, was the one who made the heroic trip to the grocery store to replenish our stores, and monitor everyone's temperature.

We managed.  We survived.  We even got the tree decorated.  I kept half-lidded eyes on the breakables, as each child hung up their ornaments.  I didn't give a whit where they ended up on the tree.  We had Christmas movie marathons.  I've watched every episode of every season of Shawn the Sheep.  I think I'm good now, thanks.  Even though being sick absolutely sucks, everybody being in the same boat draws a family closer together.  United in snot.  And phlegm.  The one with the highest temperature of the hour wins....a popsicle!

And now, our little Florence Nightingale is taking her turn.  She is the lucky one.  She has four family members to wait on her.

Jordan is so, so lucky that he is in OKC at the moment...  

and now, in that post-cold energy rush, it is sinking in that I've only got 5 days to get my Christmas shit together....