The Weekend Of The Birthday Bust

First of all, yesterday was Hubs’ birthday.

It will go down as the biggest birthday BUST in the history of birthday busts.  It has everything to do with the fact that Hubs brought home a sinus infection last weekend.  And he went to the doctor, who put him on major antibiotics.  And… seeing as how Hubs still feels perfectly miserable and still cannot breathe out of his nose, we’re going to guess that Hubs was VIRAL.  And now he’s taken antibiotics that have done nothing except destroy all of his gut for no good reason.

On Friday, I took Thing 2 to practice hockey.  He likes to go to the little drop-in sessions, where kids of all ages can just zip out onto the ice with their hockey sticks and smack three hundred pucks around.

This is what Friday afternoon looked like, when Thing 2’s mama embarrassed him in front of everyone by yanking him straight off the ice when he used his stick to slash a thirteen-year-old goalie across the leg, when that thirteen-year-old goalie blocked Thing 2’s shot on the net:

While Thing 2 was sitting in the makeshift penalty box, I suddenly realized that I couldn’t breathe well.

And my sinuses began feeling like I’d eaten too many peppermint candies and walked outside into the cold air.  They started to sting, and I started to sneeze.  And then the chills hit me, right there at the ice rink.  It’s cold in there already, but these were the chills of MAMA SUDDENLY AIN’T FEELIN’ SO GOOD.

I sent Hubs the picture of Thing 2 sitting on the bench, and texted him that his son was receiving a ten minute major penalty for slashing.  Hubs texted right back to say that slashing only earns two minutes in penalties, and to let the baby off the bench.  And then Hubs said something about how the goalie probably needed smacked with the stick, anyway, which is VERY helpful parenting.  Thing 2’s two-minute slashing penalty was finished, and I let him go back out onto the ice, while I scrunched myself down in my heavy coat on the bleachers and pretended that this WAS NOTHING.

It definitely wasn’t a sinus infection coming on.

Except… yes.  Yes, it really WAS a sinus infection coming on, like a freight train whipping down the tracks.  I ended up pulling Thing 2 off the ice again, so that Mama could go home.

And THAT, people, is how I found myself in bed at 5:30 on Friday evening.  I was still in denial about the whole BEING SICK issue, but I decided that maybe BABYING myself a little bit, by having Hubs order pizzas for dinner while I put on my pajamas and tucked myself in bed, would make everything okay.

I woke up on Saturday morning feeling horrible.  So horrible, in fact, that I decided to be proactive and go to the walk-in clinic IMMEDIATELY.  I had a fever and the chills, I couldn’t breathe at all, and the glands in my neck were the size of apples.

The doctor took one look at me and said, “Yeah… let’s get you started on a huge dose of antibiotics right now, and how about a shot of steroids in your behind?”

Yes… and also yes.

I came home and told Hubs that I had a prescription… and a shot.  He yelled, “No one offered ME a shot of steroids in my rear end to reduce sinus swelling!  THAT ISN’T EVEN FAIR!”

Sometimes the queen really does get the best treatment.

I got back in bed on Saturday, and never got back out.

I stayed in bed on Sunday, too.

All day.

I was so miserable on Sunday, which was Hubs’ birthday, all I could do was whisper, “Happy birthday.  My head is throbbing from sinus pressure!”

So Hubs and his own plugged up sinuses… which were nowhere near as awful as MY OWN plugged up sinuses and swollen glands this weekend, so don’t even believe him if he tries to tell you we were on level playing fields… manned the castled and maintained order by throwing food at the children and watching a lot of televised hockey and football.

He spent his birthday in his pajamas all weekend, watching TV.

Now that I think about it, maybe this was THE BEST birthday weekend he’s ever had.

This morning, I woke up and realized that the steroids had kicked in, and that the antibiotics were working, working, WORKING, and that I had been BACTERIAL.  I am nearly recovered.  To celebrate, I spent the entire day doing nine loads of laundry.

Admitting that I needed to actually DO nine loads of laundry is almost as embarrassing as having your mom pull you off the ice when you smack a goalie, who has just blocked your best slapshot.  My people were out of important clothing items, like jeans and socks.  The boy announced this morning, “I’m wearing dirty jeans and my most unfavorite pair of socks, because it’s all I had.”  Listen.  I could be on my deathbed, and these poor menfolk would still be helpless near the washing machine.

Also?  While I was in bed all weekend, both of our boys still walked straight past their dad to bring very important things to my bedside.  Thing 2 brought three different granola bars, on three different occasions, for me to open… NEVER YOU MIND THAT I WAS NAPPING, SON.  The boy brought questions of all kinds to my bedside, like, “Where do we keep the masking tape?”  There are only so many things a Dad can do, and apparently ripping open snack wrappers and opening a kitchen drawer to find the tape are things our boys believe he’s incapable of.

No matter.

Hubs did a beautiful job of holding down the fort all weekend.  He encouraged imaginative play, too, which is why my living room looked like this:

Come to think of it, no wonder the boy couldn’t find the masking tape on Sunday.  Thing 2 had used an entire roll of it.

But, people… I am better.  I am SO much better.  The laundry is done, like it ain’t been done in months, which means that I have EMPTY laundry baskets, after facing a mountain of dirty clothes that was overwhelming.  The menfolk have clean jeans and clean socks, once again.  I also got steaks to grill for Hubs’ birthday dinner tonight, because we like him.  And we appreciate him.  So we celebrated him with grilled beef.

(And don’t worry about his actual birthday dinner, because Hubs’ sweet mama brought him a home cooked dinner and dropped off at our house last night, so that he didn’t have to eat leftover pizza and granola bars to celebrate.  She loves him, too.  And we just let her drop the food and run, because ain’t nobody got time to fall down with these germs!)

Anyway.

That was our weekend.

And listen.  Y’all.  Do you pray?  If you do… then pray for my dad.  He and my mom have driven halfway across the continent now to be at a major hospital, so that he can have his kidneys looked at.  Cancer is the thing I hate the very most right now.  He’ll have some tests run, and surgery… and we would absolutely COVET AND CHERISH your prayers for him.  Because my dad is one special kind of guy, and we love him ENORMOUSLY MUCH.

Thank you.

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