Posts Tagged Under Flu
Thanksgiving to Holiday Memories
Napkin rings crafted from toilet paper tubes, the wrong kind of pickle, jeans at the dinner table — I had already made too many concessions.
My irritation grew as the girls lost interest in helping halfway through peeling the apples. Determined to be thankful for my family and friends, though, I tried not to sweat the small stuff.
Thanksgiving morning brought major sweating — and shivering. The flu had struck. I was too weak to crawl out of bed, much less roast a turkey and conjure up gravy, mashed potatoes, and green beans, piping hot and on the table at the same magical moment.
By Lorrie GoldinPotential Havoc: Mom’s Sick
“Whoa,” is my immediate response. I hesitate after this initial jolt and then pull up again, trying to lift my heavy throbbing head off the wet pillow.
My condition shouldn’t have been a surprise. After all I’d been up throughout the night gasping for water and trying to double up the blankets around my shivering frame.
I blink back at the clock, trying to register the urgency of getting up after five snooze alarms. My throbbing head cradles the pillow, which feels like a rock rubbing a sore. You’ve got to get the kids ready for school. You’ve got to get the kids ready for school. It registers: a checklist of actions dart across my numb brain. The recognition of how impossible actual racing through the morning is also registers, and compels me to try again.
By Maija ThrelkeldWhen You Have Kids, You’ve Gotta Have Friends
I woke up last Thursday planning on taking my five-year-old daughter to school and then running a host of errands. As many spiritual teachers have said, “The universe laughs when you make plans.”
My plan was shattered as my stomach lurched and I ran to the bathroom beginning a day-long devotion to the porcelain god.
The stomach flu had hit me with a vengeance. No warning, just a seven-thirty a.m. reminder that I am not in control of my own life. I staggered back to bed and croaked at Keith, my husband, “You have to take Miranda to school.”
By adminWhen a Mother Is Most Needed
“Hold me?” my four-year-old daughter whispers from a pile of blankets in the middle of the hide-a-bed.
She’s been out here in the living room for twenty-four hours now with a flu bug.
First, she’d been pale and stoic, retching so often over a seven-hour period that I quit counting after she hit the double digits.
By Anjie Reynolds
