It Goes By Many Names (What’s One More?)

Today, the one I’ve seen several times is “Hamthrax.”  Heh, cute.

Whether you go all clinical (like we have around here), calling it H1N1, or can’t quite let go of the original, media-hyped Swine Flu! (OMG, PIG Flu! Like Bird Flu, only with hooves and a funny snout!), we seem to have welcomed it into our household this week.  The evidence is there, and I can only say we’ve been blessed with a pretty mild case.  It’s sure a lot more mild than the flu I had while pregnant with Nicky nearly ten years ago.  Now, that was a flu to write home to the sty about…*

But back to the Hamthrax H1N1.  Nicky came down with A Fever Sunday night, so of course he stayed home from school the next day, and I cancelled my Monday trip to Costco and my volunteer time at the library.  (Mondays = excitement. Yeah.)  Kalen skipped happily off to his first grade class.  (From my car in the school parking lot.  I’m not quite ready for him to walk to school alone.  Give me a few years.)  Nicky watched some movies.

Tuesday morning at 2:00am, Nicky’s Fever broke.  He stayed home, though (that pesky “24-hours fever-free” rule), and The Fever returned mid-day.  We watched the Real Star Wars trilogy.  That evening, Jason and I came down with Fevers (both of us), chills (me), and a sore throat (him).  Wednesday through Friday found me missing the school bus stop in front of our house in Georgia desperately, as we took turns getting a surprisingly healthy Kalen to and from school.  It also found the remaining three of us holed up in the living room with an odd assortment of The Today Show, Jason’s work lap top (he’s still contracting = no paid sick time = EARN, Baby!), Phineas and Ferb, books, quilts, pillows, The Deadliest Catch, and I really can’t remember what else.

Everyone seems to be improving in time for at least some of us to hit a street or two for Treats tomorrow night.  (Sans adult-sized Jedi robes for Jason et moi.  *Sob*  The sacrifices one makes for illness.)  My pesky Fever lingers on.  It’s little more than an annoyance, causing wooziness whenever I stand up long enough to, say, load the dishwasher, take a shower, or walk into the school to pick Kalen up from his after-school Nature Club.  Given its obvious efforts to keep me from accomplishing anything beyond becoming addicted to the adventures of Sig Hansen and crew, I’m tempted to christen our version of h1n1 The Sloth Flu.

See?  It even sounds less menacing.  The Sloth Flu.  Sloths are slow.  (Who among us has ever seen a sloth race at the county fair?)  Certainly we can all outrun this pandemic before it gets off the ground.

*Yes, yes, I know this flu can be very dangerous and deadly.  It hasn’t been for us, though, and we are grateful.  Seriously, that ’99-’00 (I had it over The New Millennium New Years, for crying out loud!  And our anniversary!  And I was pregnant!) flu really knocked me for a loop, so that’s my basis for comparison.

Crayola-Powered Destruction

Oh, to have the energy of a six-year-old when I don’t feel my best!

Kalen has a stinker of a head cold.  Sleep last night was intermittent, and given the paranoia reasonable concern about germs these days, we decided a day home was probably best for everyone involved.  The kids at school would have less exposure to the nastiness Kalen’s carrying, and he would have less exposure to potentially worse viruses while his immune system is run down.  Win-win.

Today has reminded me a lot of when he was in preschool.  Cuddle time on the couch, PB&J’s in front of a movie (old-school Pooh Bear, complete with blustery days and little black rain clouds!), and coloring.

There is one notable difference between four-year-old Kalen and six-year-old Kalen when it comes to coloring, however.  The stories…the really, really destructive nature of them, to be exact.  I was just treated to an hour-long (at least it felt that way – perhaps it was only about five minutes) explanation of certain “Vulture droids”* in various stages of exploding.  Pre-explosion, impact of missiles and other droids/ships/somethings, actual explosion and/or crashing into what I observed to be a flame-engulfed planetoid of some sort.

He didn’t start the explanation in a seated position…this was only after a lengthy dancing/jumping/arm-waving speech that had me nodding and “uh-huh-ing” in a confused, sort-of-listening manner.  (I’m sorry, after a while, I just have to tune it out.)  Once I pulled him in for a hug and explained that perhaps Daddy would find this much more comprehensible, after all, he’s the Mythbusters-style explosions addict, the Vulture Droid Annihilator gave me the same sort of “uh-huh” before settling into the chair to expound a bit more.  Touché, kiddo.

Incidentally, it was the bottom center photo that clued me into what he really needed, besides a semi-listening ear and a hug or two.  Another difference between four-year-old and six-year-old Kalen: he now understands it when I explain the need for nap time when he’s sick.

*And with this, we have proof that the boys’ Star Wars knowledge has officially surpassed my own.  Sigh.