Codes, codes for eberyone

Sick. We are all sick. All of us who are here, that is. Kate got it first, and gave it to Claire, who then shared it with me. Damn daycare. Now, of course, I'm feeling really bad about getting so very frustrated with Kate over the weekend; she was just feeling ucky and now I know why she was whiny. I want to whine right now, too.

I feel worst for Claire, because she's a baby and can't even pretend to blow her nose. So nostril sucker thingy it is, accompanied by nose drops. She hates it, and I hate doing it to her, but it's worse to let her cry and get so congested that she starts to gag.

The nights are long. None of us are sleeping well, and every time one of the girls wakes up, so do I. Our throats itch and are sore, and the coughing is hard to sleep through. My head is pounding, and the tantrums Kate works herself into are making me a little crazy. Not thoroughly crazy, because I've been able to head most of them off today, but I've got my tickets to crazytown in my hand just in case.

I thought I'd have my husband back to help out tonight, but it seems that this will not happen. Of course. His jet's still broken. Severe thunderstorms are in the forecast for tomorrow morning when he is (currently) scheduled to leave, and I am hoping to have him home by Wednesday. Until then, I'll be chugging Nyquil vodka OJ in an effort to get rid of this bug.