sick

We’ve been having a fun week with my mom, but now I’m dying. From the inside out. I went to bed with the beginnings of a sore throat last night and thought, “ugh, I’m getting the crud that has been going around.” Until I woke up in the middle of the night and found that someone had taken a knife to the inside of my throat and set it on fire. At least that’s what I could have sworn had happened while I was sleeping. So on one of my very precious sleep-in days (Calvin is in Germany for a school conference so no soccer practice driving for me!) I had to drive in to base at 7 in the morning and camp out until the medical clinic opened and I could get in to see the nurse. My tonsils looked like an alien had invaded and set up shop — Carter and Josh both looked at them and Josh thought if the clinic couldn’t see me, I needed to go to the ER. Carter just ran away scared. I actually took a photo of them (a tonsil selfie if you will) so I could see them up close, but I won’t traumatize you by sharing it.

I had already googled “symptoms of strep throat,” so I was pretty sure what the results would be and I was sitting on the couch sipping warm tea with (my new Yemini) honey when the call came in that the test was indeed positive for strep. So I had to drive back to the clinic to pick up penicillin (a word I still can never spell correctly, no matter how many times I try) to hopefully evict the alien invader fast.

I thought I was doing OK, but then my Motrin started wearing off and my throat started hurting even more so I abandoned the couch for my bed and slept for the next several hours. Thank God for Mom who entertained Camille all day and let me rest without any interruptions. Now I’m rearranging my schedule and begging for favors so the kids don’t have to miss everything while I’m nursing my ground hamburger throat. Did I mention that this happened to be the week that Josh’s car started overheating so there is an extra layer of juggling required?

And now a few photos from the good old days,  back when I could swallow instead of drool, and we took my mom carpet shopping. I told you, if you come visit me, I will buy you a carpet . . . the offer still stands.

As you can see from the way Camille is making herself comfortable, they know us well in this shop. 

It’s a family thing. They each want one of their own. Caleb is on the hunt for a blue carpet. Of course there is a particular kind of carpet that is known for it’s blues (not the one above), but it’s over $1,000. Nope. 

Carer is in love with green and thought this one would be perfect for his room.

But I’m not buying them all carpets in the same night — we still gotta eat! 
I realized Calvin isn’t in any of these photos. Probably because he was busying doing his Countdown to Germany in his head and kept saying things like “6 hours until we go to the airport” so he was not in the carpet buying frame of mind. 
When the guy pulled out this one, we knew it was Carter’s. It’s a very soft wool on cotton from Pakistan. He liked it so much he went home and slept on it.
The child who also really wanted a carpet and didn’t get one tonight was very, very sad. I keep telling him we are going to find a fantastic blue one and he will be so happy he waited. The carpet guy gave him a blue mini carpet and that cheered him up a bit. 
This is the one that Mom decided on. They are all feeling it because it’s so soft. Wool and silk (the white details are done with a cotton-silk) on a cotton base. Also from Pakistan. I love it. 

Hey, it’s the same colors as in my couch! That’s probably why I like it so much. Meelie watching TV with her snuggle buddy. Everywhere he lays, she tries to get close to him. I think he has finally given up. 

Nana has found another grandchild to snuggle. Micah loves her. 

Trying to curl up his long lanky body to get as much in her lap as possible. He is almost the perfect dog. Aside from his daily meds, he is very low maintenance and quiet. I think we’ll keep him.  
Now to spend some more time sleeping and less time feeling my torn up tonsils. Oh, and it’s Josh’s 40th birthday today. I’m sure he’s thrilled that all I can do is squeak out a painful, “Happy Birthday.” No party, no presents, no cake. Oh well. Welcome to the best decade. We’ll celebrate in Paris.