In Battle

Apparently it's fall.

And surprisingly it's not the leaves turning a crisp, golden color or the cool air or the fact that my house smells like pumpkin spice lattes and cinnamon heaven that's tipped me off to this fact.

It's because my family is dropping like flies due to nasty germ bugs that have invaded that I know that the season has changed.

Dang. 

And I thought we could at least wait until October. 

I'm becoming more and more of a summer lover as the years go on. Summer's never given us sicknesses, it just gives us warm, sunny pool days and barefoot walking and BBQs. I think that I will take summer as my favorite and skip the pumpkins if this is what fall means.

Sorry fall...you've been booted. I HATE when my family gets sick.

I was up at 5 am this morning lysoling and doing laundry with a vengence because Ben has a stomach bug and I was hoping to wash the little contaminants out of existence. It's not a super bad one (and I wasn't washing sheets for anything but sterilization...) but it's still here, and threatening to infiltrate the rest of the house. You've never seen a mom snap on the yellow cleaning gloves and grab the disinfectant faster. Because to me, it's war. I like to think that by making copious amounts of green smoothies and "virus killer soup" and by making the air reek with fake pine smell, that we can keep the virus at bay. Which, as we all know, isn't always the case. So when the sickness passes from family member to family member in spite of all of that combat, I feel defeated and personally responsible. Super silly, I know. 

Bode's got some kind of cold, so I'm not sure if he'll be dealing with that and be exempt from the tummy bug thing (I don't know if germs work that way...but I'd like to think that they may). And a baby with a stuffy nose is pretty much miserable, seeing as they can't sleep in the sitting up position like the rest of the world if they can't breathe out of their nose. But he is in his crib right now with one of Mimi's HUGE stuffed dogs, laying on that (a trick that got us through Mimi's colds at one and two years old). But he's not doing much sleeping (thanks to the talking Elmo book that I threw into his bed as I was dashing out to freedom, hoping ANYTHING would keep him in his bed and occupied for more than three minutes. Note to self: if you want a baby to sleep, refrain from talking toys in the bed. A big giant overstuffed dog is enough...).

We will get better and maybe actually mama may win this battle with the germs. (I have a genius idea to make a contest out of who can wash their hands the most. I'm sure that my already cracked and splitting hands are really going to loooove that one). Whatever works, right?

Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to suit up in my yellow gloves and get back to battle.

*** side note****

Super dad with the bug is actually at Mimi's field trip right now. He said he was feeling better. We'll see. For now, they're sending me cute pictures so that means no one's had any embarrassing projectile vomiting or anything. That could really ruin a trip to the farm.