I am both too old and too young for this!

So The Child is still working Its way through the bout with Fifth Disease. And the DH is working his way through a bout with...I don't even know. Something vile, and vicious and involving his poor respiratory system. And what of yours truly? Well, I seem to have magically (at least thus far) been spared all of the aforementioned yuckys and ickys, but have instead been graced with a manifestation of Parvovirus b19 which happens to be peculiar to adult women: fake rheumatoid arthritis. As in, it isn't technically that ailment that many of my fellow Hoosiers still refer to as "the rheumatiz." It just feels like it. And looks like it. In other words: creepy, creepy creepy. And it's still barely even close to Halloween!!

My poor, barely-recovered torn ankle ligament feels (and looks!) like it's right back at week 3, post-tear, which is just plain spooky. I find myself suddenly thinking things like, "have I been wrong to have not been listening to scientologists all these years I've lived in SoCal?" But, luckily, those thoughts generally pass fairly quickly, especially when I remember that I'm way to broke at this point to be a scientologist even if I wanted to be. Also, not a celebrity enough. And these days, in California, I don't even know if the Scientologists would take me even if I was a celeb, broke as I am...nobody in this state can afford charity cases these days, even famous ones. *sigh*

So anyway, here I am , just barely 30-something, with joints that- from the knees down, at least- feel about 70 years old. And, along with my sense of youthfulness, I also seem to have lost a great deal of my newfangled, new-momist ideals regarding dealing with a sick The Child. I have now resorted to attempting to dribble cough medicine and prednisone into The Child's mouth whilst It sleeps, which makes me feel like some sinister poisoner-wife in a Lifetime Movie. (Or, as my friend brought up, "very Grosse Point Blank of (me)." LOL!) Amazing how all my hifalutin concepts go straight down the crapper after 2-3 nights of sparse sleep punctuated with frequent, heartrending cries of "MOM!! MOM!! MOM HELP IT HUUUUURRRRRTTTTS MEEEE MOM OH MOM!!!!!" Of course, by the time I am sufficiently panicked/awake enough to respond, The Child has descended once more into peaceful snores.

I've been drinking massive, and I mean massive, quantities of homemade nettle, raspberry leaf, rose hip, alfalfa and spearmint tea, all of which are reputed to have immune-strengthening and/or anti-inflammatory properties. If I don't get smoothly oiled joints, at least I'll get insanely hydrated. So there's my little silver lining. Also, the teas are surprisingly scrummy, which ain't half bad, either.

Okay, I'm off to try to stuff something other than popcorn into my face before the next outbreak of shrieking from The Child. Toodles!