Saturday, October 20, 2012 write a note

...about my thoughts:

Dear Brutal Virus,

You win.

You have stuck three out of four of my children so far this week.

Plaguing them with this horrible virus of terrible stomach cramps and super, super high fevers for an unprecedented five days each.

I have endured night after night of sleeplessness.  Time I have spent crying over my scared for them while I held them and rubbed their tummies, their backs, anything to try to give them some comfort.

Can I ask...

Is there a particular reason why you must show your nastiest symptoms in the middle of the night?  Is there something you have against daylight?  You know, the time when I have my wits about me and I am less likely to imagine worst case scenarios.

Two a.m. is when my judgement is most impaired.  How do I know I am making the right choice to not rush my baby to the hospital when she is having trouble breathing, sleeping, and even lying still because her fever is so high, beyond 104, she cannot get comfortable?

I am so much more cognizant at 6 a.m.

Can you strike at  6 a.m. next time please?

My next beef...

It is not fair to change the rules of this illness that you have plagued my family with.  You cannot just add the symptom of vomiting on day seven of this virus!

And in the mini-van.  Did it have to occur on...the only, very small patch of visible carpet, in my recently detailed swagger wagon?


As I write this, the last of my kiddos (#1) is beginning to develop a fever.

If this fever persists in her, I think I'll take the four of my cherubs and drop them off at a local safe house.  Perhaps four different ones...

And officially admit defeat.

Cause this momma is done.

I give up.


I have another idea...can you please strike me next?

I would trade places with each of them in a moment.

I will take their pain.  Their aches.  Their fevers.

I don't want them to hurt anymore.

Virus...go away.

Or take me as your next victim.



One tired momma.


  1. Hugs! Praying for this virus to go away and your stamina to make it through this with your wits. Love you!

  2. Ohhh.. I'm so sorry, Krissy. What a terrible time you are having. Poor babies, and poor mama!