Hey, everybody. Poking my head out again after a week of unbridled sickness to say hello. I think we’re through the worst of it. I hope we are, but if you were wondering why I wasn’t blogging, that’s why.

Monday August got sent home from daycare with a fever. Then he threw up. My kids aren’t really pukers, so I took this as a bad sign.

Tuesday was a little better and then not better.

Wednesday had me in the doctor’s office with three sobbing children ages one and under. While I was in the waiting room I saw one tiny baby with three adults–some days I’m convinced I’m doing this thing all wrong. Turns out August had hand-foot-mouth, and Rex and Louie had ear infections. Hooray!

Hand-foot-mouth is one of my least-favorite childhood illnesses–it seems to drag on forever, it’s very painful, and it’s kind of gross. When Charlie got it he also got an all expense (not) paid trip to the hospital where we hung out for a few days, so I have a bunch of negative associations with this particular bug.

It’s now almost-Sunday and we seem to be pulling through the worst of it. Louie now also has hand-foot-mouth and we’re keeping an eye on Rex as well, but no one has a fever, no one is vomiting, and moods are improving.  August is over the worst of it and will be back in school on Monday.

Also: this weekend was the twins’ and Rex’s birthday. Thank goodness we had their party last week, huh?

Otherwise, the boys are good. August, who has been miserable for days, is still better than he is when he’s had gluten. I feel tremendously good about him. I feel good about all my boys, really. Granted, I have a whole house of non-talkers, but we’re getting places and my heart isn’t heavy with worry and more than anything I trust my mama-radar. Things will come together. And if they don’t? We’ll manage that too.

Night y’all and Happy Father’s Day.

The sickies in their native environment.

I say it a lot, but I’m pretty sure it’s because it’s true: Mothering is not for the faint of heart.

The twins started daycare last week, and I’m not sure who’s handing it worse–them on me.

Louis did pretty well the first day, mostly distracted by the new toy phenomenon, but is completely horrified that I expect him to go back every other day. By the time I picked him up at the end of day two, he was a sniveling mess trying to tell me just how terrible it all was, by muttering “dah, dah, dah” for about five minutes straight. I really need to learn how to speak Louis.

August is doing OK. Well, he seems to be OK after I pry him off of me limb by limb. Usually he’s stopped screaming before I’ve walked out the building. He’s pretty good when I pick him up, though. I little crying, but totally happy once we’ve started heading for the car.

I watch them a lot on the closed circuit television channel the school has. It’s hard for me to understand how this is eventually going to improve their speech and social skills, but I’m trying to have faith in the process.

I really have no idea how working mothers do this. Hell, I don’t know how I’m doing it. Ever fiber in my being is screeching at me to SAVE THE BABIES.

So far, I have resisted, and have picked them up at the very reasonable hour of 3:30. They are making more sounds, so I guess that’s progress of a sort.

Like I said, not for the faint of heart.

The boys in daycare does allow us to do fun things like go out to eat for Charlie’s birthday. So there’s that.