I can’t believe we’re starting yet another week with illness. Yes, you read that correctly. We have, yet again, been hit with the stomach bug. And it’s back with a vengeance. This is my version of hell, friends. And I feel like a failure. I feel like there’s no way we should have gotten this again. Did I miss something?? Did I forget to sanitize something?? What in the actual hell.
But I know I didn’t fail. We are just being kicked while we’re down. Every bit of our home has been cleaned, disinfected, and sanitized over and over and over again. I’m not the praying type, but holy hell have I trying to pray to whomever I can for this to pass quickly.
I’m still grateful, regardless of illness. Christmas didn’t go as planned — not even a little bit. But we were still (kinda) together. We still had moments of laughter; moments of happiness; and moments of relaxation — even though they were (very) short-lived.
I’m not really content right now. I’m on edge. I’m just waiting for the next bad thing or illness to happen and it’s downright exhausting. I haven’t been a germophobe in years, but having encountered nonstop sickness lately has made me question touching any surface, be in any public space, and the like. And that? That, my friends, is enough to drive a person insane. Seriously.
I wish for health for my whole family. Really and truly. We need it. Our immune systems are down and our morale is super, super, down. Sweet baby Jesus, please, just let us get our health back.
Happiness is hearing Ari whisper about how excited he is that Santa visited. Sure, it was short-lived excitement — and with lackluster enthusiasm; but it was the excitement of a four year old nonetheless.