Does that mean we're done being sick?

These last two weeks have sucked. Week before last, Evelyn had a delightful ear infection. That's cool - we go to the pediatrician, have it checked out. She needs antibiotics, we get them, we're good. Cool...let's move on.

Then Wednesday late she has a mystery fever. We decide to keep her home Thursday (24-hour rule: must be fever free for at least a day). Only I've got a fever, too. So my husband stays home with both of us. Did I mention I love my husband dearly?

He stays home, Evelyn gets better. I, however, do not. My fever gets higher and higher and my back and stomach are killing me. Finally, I give in and go into urgent care. Did you know you could get strep in your kidneys? And did you know it hurts? It could've been worse. On the pain scale, I'd put it under a seizure, childbirth, shingles and being lanced by a stingray, with childbirth being least painful and the stingray being the most. Maybe around the same as having chopped off part of the tip of my little finger, but not as sharp. (Note to self: do not cook when you have shingles in your eye.)

Awesome. I get antibiotics. We send Evelyn to school Friday and happily attend a large party on Saturday full of children. Yay! But everyone's healthy! We have a great time and the kids go to sleep way too late.

We wake up Sunday. Hmmm, Evelyn looks exhausted - bags under her eyes, rubbing them a lot. Today we will have naps! A few hours later, "OMG, IT'S PINKEYE! PINKEYE! BURN EVERYTHING!" Another trip to urgent care. Another trip to the pharmacy for antibiotics. Now sounds like a damn good time for a pizza - no one has eaten, I sure as hell am not cooking (afraid to touch anyone's food). So I swing by Dominoes on my way back.

I pay for pizza, turn to leave and...the pizza sales out of the box, flies a few feet and splats on the ground. I had no clue a pizza could fly like that. So start snorting and giggling and go in to apologize, then help clean pizza off the sidewalk while Evelyn's demanding to know why I threw her pizza.

Dominoes generously makes me a new one, on the house. I tip them a lot and leave.

The End.

This post brought to you by, "You've got to be flipping kidding me," and "What the hell is BAFTA?" (mostly because I don't know what the hell BAFTA is...I suppose my buddy Google can tell me)