Birthday Blues

It's my birthday and I am blue.

It's not because I am a year older. I stopped caring a while back.

It's because everyone, including myself is sick. And this has been the case for the entire week or so.

It started with Evan and his HFMD. Then one evening, Packrat comes home from putting Evan to bed at his parents' house with some major aches.

The next morning, Muffin started to cry funny and that followed with a fever. According to the doctor, ulcers at the back of his throat. We couldn't confirm if it was HFMD but we were supposed to treat it as such.

At the clinic, while waiting for the doctor to look at Muffin, I start feeling very cold and by the time we get home, I was chattering so hard I almost broke some teeth.

Now, Evan seems to be on the mend quite nicely, Muffin seems to be better though still VERY fussy and up at all times of the night which is unusual for my little placid boy but Packrat and I alternate between feeling like we've been run over by trucks or are heroin addicts suffering severe withdrawal.

Packrat thinks it's partly stress. We've had a lot to worry about. The kids being sick, going back to work, starting work again, the twins' birthday, serious illnesses in the family and the list goes on.

I've been feeling very bummed about it the entire week. Not necessarily because it's my birthday and we're all unwell but because it's the last few days of my leave and I haven't had time to enjoy it. And on top of that, I haven't had a full stable with Evan quarantined and there's something wrong about having him away from home and away from the rest of the brood for so long.

Someone told me it was our lot in life as a mother. I accept that. But it doesn't stop me feel like I've been cheated out of something.

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