Last week, Hayley was home from school for two days. The first day, she had a sore throat and quite the sneezing, sniffling, dripping cold going on. She stayed home and was miserable, moaning about how horrible she felt. I was glad I kept her home because she either would have made her entire class sick, been traumatized like she was when she was sick on her second day of school and we’d be back to persuading her through her tears to go back, or she’d be in the nurse’s office while the school secretary called me to pick her up. Or all of the above.

The second day, she seemed to still be feeling crappy so she stayed home again, but she was practically jumping off the couch by ten and I was wondering why I hadn’t sent her crazy ass to school.

She still had a dry cough but she was more of less fine, so she went to school last Friday, went out for a walk in the woods with us on Sunday, and was fine at school on Monday through Wednesday. In fact, getting her to school has been going exceptionally well. I have trouble dragging her out of bed at 6:30 and I have to remind her to please eat her damn breakfast, but once she’s dressed and on her way, she’s happy and lately she’s been going into the school with some of her friends, either classmates or kids in the other Kindergarten class, and often she runs across the school yard and into the building, not even looking back to make sure I’m waving at her (I am). So that’s been nice.

But then on Thursday, George woke me up while getting ready for work and told me Hayley had a sore throat and a fever. He carried her in and put her beside me and it was like someone had placed a furnace in the bed. She was really not well. I called the school and left a message to say she wouldn’t be in and although none of us went back to sleep, Hayley spent the entire day lying on either of the two couches, moaning and cycling through fever spells.

She was still warm when I gave her some Tylenol on Thursday night and she was warm and sweaty despite a comfortable room temperature when I checked on her after she fell asleep, so I told George we’d keep her home again; he called in this morning. She’s better in the sense that she played more, including making a mess in the living room, her bedroom, and scattered papers and markers all over the kitchen table, but in between, she pulled out a sleeping bag, placed it on the living room floor, and she would lie down, feverish again, to watch a movie. She also hasn’t been eating much, partly because her throat still bugs her, and partly because she doesn’t have much appetite, not even for ice cream.

And you can tell she’s not faking it:

It sucks. She caught something directly on top of her previous cold. Breanna’s dealing with a minor cold (and also molars, yay) and the humidifier is going non-stop so she can breathe and sleep. I’ve been sick since Saturday and it’s not going away because Mom doesn’t get to rest what with taking care of sick kids and housework and cooking and work. I’m not sure how George is feeling since he has allergies and sneezes all the time anyway, but I know he’s tired all the time and works too hard and sleeps too little.

We need a vacation. A germ-free, restful vacation, even just a weekend. It’s times like this when I’m tired and cranky and dealing with snotty tissues all over the floor and being tied to this laptop all the time that I really wish it was two years ago and we could just hop in the car and go to my grandmother’s house for a weekend away from everything.

I need a cottage in the woods to visit in times like this. I’d take my camera and leave everything else behind. Maybe bring some reading material and just read books all weekend, in between being outside with nature.

That sounds nice right now.