When The Arctic Air Came Through Town

When we last left off over here at Jedi Mama, Incorporated, I had been in the throes of a passionate eye infection, while Hubs was suffering from the worst case of a sinus infection he’s ever had…

… since the last sinus infection he had.

And suffering is a relative term.  When Hubs is sick, Hubs suffers.  Scarlet O’Hara never endured a hardship like the pain of Hubs taking to his bed with the plague.

But yes.  I woke up on Tuesday morning with a raging peri-orbital eye infection.  This isn’t my first rodeo with these VERY RARE, NEVER-OCCURS-IN-ANY-NORMAL-PERSON’S-EYEBALL bouts of infection.  This was my fourth peri-orbital infection, which is exactly four more than any other human being has ever had.  In the past, oral antibiotics and shots have never worked.  I’ve ended up taking my eye (which always swells up half of my face and makes me look like I belong in a horror movie) to the hospital, where I endure three entire days being pampered with daily bedding changes by CNAs and an IV of meds.

On Tuesday morning, I called in sick to work.  I marched straight to the Urgent Care clinic and said, “I don’t want to mess around with the antibiotic cocktails you think you can create.  I know my eye, and I want an IV in my arm in the next five minutes.”

Except I wasn’t that bossy, because I can never be bossy to anyone, even though Hubs will disagree.

The Urgent Care doctor called in the ER doctor, and they both stared at my eye.  And then they suited up in rubber gloves, so that they could both poke and prod and squeeze my eye, until I felt a little faint.  And then the ER doctor said, “I want to try an antibiotic pill.”

Realistic, Debby Downer said, “It won’t work.”

The ER doctor said, “I think it might.”

Realistic, Debby Downer, who was on her fourth rodeo here, announced, “It will not.  And I will end up with a face the size of the Great Pumpkin, and THEN I’ll be in the hospital for an IV.”

But I took the prescription, which cost all of $13.42.

And, lo!  The angel of the Lord quietly whispered, “We’ve got this,” which is how an antibiotic that cost thirteen and a half bucks HAS WORKED!!!  Pop the champagne cork!  Praise that Jesus fellow!  Because He pulled off something great there.  My eye is back to normal now.  I wish I could say that about the rest of me.

In the meantime, Hubs continued to get worse and worse with his sinus infection, until he could no longer breathe or stop coughing.  He coughed and he coughed and he coughed.  He gasped for air, and coughed some more, and announced that he’d enjoyed being married to me, but that this might actually be the end of the road for him.  He had already seen the doctor, and she’d said the word that no one wants to hear:  VIRAL.

On Friday, ten full days after the VIRAL proclamation, I sent Hubs BACK to the doctor, where he basically said he’d buy antibiotics off the Black Market, if she didn’t put him in contact with a dealer NOW.

By Saturday morning, the guy was almost back to normal, which made us shout the word, BACTERIAL.

In other words, Hubs and I are planning to survive the eye and the congestion and the cough.

We got to see the boy’s band concert on Thursday night.

As we were driving to the concert, we had THIS little conversation:

THE BOY: “I forgot to tell you… I’m first chair in the clarinets.”
ME: “Son! That’s awesome! How long have you had first chair?”
THE BOY: “Well, pretty much all year. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
ME: “You’re killing me, Smalls.” And then, joking, “Is there any other big news you’ve forgotten to tell your mom?”
THE BOY: “Well, I got the scores back on the PSAT that I took in October. I scored in the 95th percentile, nationwide. But I didn’t forget to tell you that, because I just got the scores today.”

Y’all!  Our kid is kind of quietly awesome!  So yeah.  First chair in the clarinet section, AND he scored better than 95% of the nation’s high school JUNIORS, while he is just a sophomore, who was invited to take the PSAT, based on his GPA.  His parents are kind of stinking proud of him.

img_4174 img_4179 img_0537On Friday afternoon, Grammy and Hubs’ sister dropped off an adorable little Christmas tree at our house, so the boys got busy decorating THAT late Friday afternoon, in the middle of a blizzard.

image2ssI think someone was a TITCH tired, because look at that YAWN I caught with the camera!  Also?  Well, I think Santa might’ve stopped off at Mardis Gras, before he decorated our tree.

images1 imagesdfd4In other news, THIS happened this weekend:

imagesds3If you’ve ever wondered what living on the polar ice cap, in an Igloo, with nothing but a small campfire would feel like, I assure you… we TRIED IT OUT this weekend.  Small Town went into storm mode, as everyone gathered bread and milk and eggs and chili ingredients at the grocery store on Thursday night, because THE STORM IS A-COMIN’, GLADYS!

But school?  Yeah, we still had it.  This is Small Town, USA.  We just add another layer, let the cars warm up five extra minutes, pull the snowblowers out of the garage, and get ourselves where we need to be.  It’s not like we’re… you know… TEXANS, who think 49 degrees ABOVE THE ZERO is suffering.

And lest you think I’m wrong on that, the cute neighbor boy and his two older brothers called the boy at 8:00 on Friday night, when it was twenty BELOW and said, “We’re going to see the new Star Wars movie at 9:30.  Wanna come?”

And he did.  He went, and he came home at 12:15 Saturday morning.  He said, “It’s a bit chilly out there, but the movie was AWESOME.”

Meanwhile, it was business as usual.  Hubs and Thing 2 dug us out of our driveway Saturday morning, after we had over a foot of new snow fall on Friday.

img_4184 img_4193And, to just mock the kids who think 49 degrees is too cold, Thing 2 yanked both of his bicycles out of the garage and rode around for a while, even though it was… well… 41 DEGREES BELOW ZERO WITH THE WINDCHILL.

img_4212 img_4215 img_4221I also baked cookies with Thing 2 bright and early on Saturday morning.  I had envisioned an idyllic morning of baking and sparkles and love glitters, but then reality happened.  Baking with a preschooler always means that your kitchen will look like Chernobyl, while you wonder if it’s okay to pop the top on the champagne and make yourself a mimosa, since it’s BEFORE NOON.

image3 image1ffAnd then, cold weather be danged!

We took Thing 2 out to his ice skating lessons, even though the windchill was still MINUS TWENTY-EIGHT when we drove him across town to the rink!

img_4233Sadly, Thing 2, who is as fast as a space shuttle launch on his skates, wiped out during the weekly races.

He wiped out…

… and another little boy BEAT HIM TO THE WALL.

Of course, he lost with grace and humbleness and great dignity.

img_4230Later on Saturday night, when we were back down into the windchill territory of MINUS THIRTY-FOUR DEGREES again, Hubs and I dropped our boys off at Mam and Pa’s house.  We went to Hubs’ company’s Christmas party at the golf course, and look!


I cannot tolerate the beets.  Thankfully, Hubs eats beets, and he cleaned them right up for me.

Hubs’ party ended up being the ABSOLUTE MOST FUN!  We sat and talked and laughed our heads off and drank key lime pie martinis with good friends, and then laughed until we cried during the White Elephant Gift Exchange.  I laughed so much on Saturday night, my sides hurt!

When we went back to Mam and Pa’s house to collect our boys at the UNHOLY HOUR OF 9:30 PM, we found out that Thing 2 had… um… FALLEN ASLEEP.

So we did the only thing we could do.


And then we came home and slept like rocks!!  I didn’t even open my eyes until 7:30 this morning!!!  Merry Christmas to us!!

Meanwhile, over at Mam and Pa’s house, Thing 2 woke up at 3:30 AM and never went back to sleep.

Which is why things looked like THIS at 11:00 this morning:

image3561And then things looked like THIS at 2:00 this afternoon, when Thing 2 was finally up and moving about:

img_4237That would be the unshowered hair of our youngest son, without any fresh product in it.


And that brings us to tonight, y’all.  It’s going to be an early bedtime for all of us.

Happy Sunday!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *