Not much on the calendar today. And that was the problem. Cause everyone knows when you have nothing planned but a lazy day of studying for your midterm that is the next day, the whole world is going to blow up in your face. It's just a rule of the Universe.

The baby has had this rash for a while. It hasn't been that big of a deal. I thought that maybe it was the bubble bath, or strawberries..so we'd cut stuff out, and we were just waiting for it to go away.

This morning, Dalton wakes up and looks like death. He has a headache, his throat hurts, his head hurts, and he's coughing. And of course the only words that pop in to my head, and then continue to repeat themselves seventy thousand million zillion times are SWINE FLU-SWINE FLU-SWINE FLU. But I was not going to panic, because everyone knows that that bug that is in Dalton right now, isn't sure what it wants to be. But as soon as it senses that I am worried about it being swine flu, it is going to morph in to that. So, instead I am going to trick it!...and worry that it's strep..everyone knows that that is the diagnosis that Moms hope for, cause then it's just a shot of antibiotics, and you're back in the game. "Oh, yes, my child WAS sick..but now he's on antibiotics, and he has no fever, so it's perfectly fine that he's licking your kid's snow cone, thank you very much." So, I am trying to think STREP-STREP-STREP as I look at his pale face that is sweating.

Then I notice that Garrett's bumps are looking redder than they have been for the past week. In fact they look like welts. And they aren't just on his cheeks anymore. They are on his legs, and his feet, and his back. Does he have the chicken pox? He's not itching them. He seems perfectly fine. He's just covered in red raised dots on every inch of his body.

Good Lord...and it's not even 8:30 AM. So, just as Shelby is getting in the car, for me to take her to school, I tell her to forget it. It is truly not worth the two hours of playtime for her, for me to be schlepping my two sick boys around today.

So, now- instead of being at home with only a sleeping baby this morning, hitting the books, I am at home with cholera and the bubonic plague...and a serious case of the wiggle worms coming from the twirling thing in the polka-dotted skirt.

I get a sub for Shelby's soccer practice. I do still manage to get us all in for a bang trim..cause you know- there are priorities. And then we finally get an appointment with the Pediatrician. It's close to their office's closing time, so I park in the visitor parking in front. I juggle my wiggly Polk-a-dotted baby, my giant purse-slash-diaper-bag while trying to coax my moaning eight year old out of the car, who looks like he might fall over and die. Shelby is moaning that this has been the most boring day of her life and she is mad that she has to come, etc..


We make it in to the office. Which doesn't seem like a big deal, but it was a flight of stairs, since the elevator was broken, two packs of crayons in the waiting room to keep both of the little kids quiet, and a half a chocolate bar that they'd gotten from their Aunt Jenny who cut their hair earlier that day.

Our Doctor comes in, takes one look at Garrett and starts beaming. "Can I ask you a few things about this before I tell you what this is?" I didn't have time to answer. Our Pediatrician is 5 feet and a teensy bit of change. He looks like he weighs about as much as Dalton. He is fair complected with wisps of blonde hair on his small head, and has a smile that reaches from ear to ear. He is always bopping, and doing little jigs. His hands are constantly flailing to attract attention HERE, or detract attention from the-big-thing-he-is-going-to-stick-in-your-ear! He is a master. A little elfish master...like a pediatrician from a magical Hobbit fairy land.

So, he asks, "Do the bumps go down his legs on both sides?...And there are equal amounts on both sides?...and blah, blah, blah".... YEAH, get to the point! Is what I am thinking. So, he gets out his medical textbook and shows me an equally bumpy kid in a picture with a really long-named condition out to the side: Gianotti-Crosti" It's so rare...And I always want it to be this!...Any time a kid comes in with bumps, I think I want it to be this!...But it never is....And now here it is!...I have to go get one of the other doctors!....Cause I am always talking about this, and she isn't going to believe me!" (runs out the door). Garrett is just entranced, because during that entire conversation the Doctor was flitting and flailing about, as if Garrett was the sole attendee of a one-man-Riverdance-of-the-little-people-show. He comes in with this beautiful doctor, who makes a comment about his diaper being saggy. And then they talk and giggle to one another about their days in Med School, and when the first time was that they heard about this condition, and can it be as rare as they'd heard it was?...OK, get a room for crying out loud! So, diagnosis- "We don't know how he got it. It's a virus that there is no cure for. Nothing you can do to help it. It could last another week...or another seven weeks...not really sure. But thanks for the carni show and good luck with your really-rare-and-cool-skin-diseased-baby. Hope that DCFS doesn't come knocking on your door when the neighbors report you for having a baby that is obviously being neglected because that is the only thing that could account for the giant boils covering his body."

Oh, wait...and then there's Dalton. We didn't notice him over there in the corner, curled up in the fetal position on his chair. The doctor swabs his throat. "No strep." Damn it. And then he does some other poking around at him. He tells me that it's a virus. It could be influenza. He is talking softly, like if anyone hears that there is this kid in here that might have the black death, the whole building might just stampede for the nearest exit, killing everyone in their path. He motions to Garrett with his head and says that we just don't want that one getting it. He says that he's not going to test for Swine Flu. Did I say Swine Flu?...I meant SWINE FLU..because, if he's got it, he's got it. His hot doc to his side, confirms with some head bobs to let him know that's exactly what she'd do. He was kind of non-shalant about the whole thing, like "If we just act like we are not acknowledging the swine flu, then it will give up and go infect someone else...play it cool." So, again- diagnosis- Your kid is sick and there is nothing you can do."

Did I mention that during this entire office visit, Shelby has been running around the 2 foot by 2 foot office space, grabbing whatever Garrett has out of his hand, tripping him, and making me want to grab her by the pig tails that I should have put in her head that morning, and tape her to the chair? Instead, I had asked in a hushed kind plea "Shel-by..sit-down..pleeeease." Nope. Did not work. So, that chocolate bar, that they'd consumed half of in the waiting room,...yeah- it was being fed like breast milk to both her and Garrett for the 15 minutes in the office, to keep one or both of them from exploding. OK, so I have my worthless diagnosis's and I am shlepping my three kids out of the office and down the stairs, out the door...in front of the car to find my keys...when this woman, who could be confused for Pat from SNL comes charging at me from inside the building. "HEY, YOU WERE NOT SUPPOSED TO PARK THERE!" She points to my car, like I may not be sure which car is mine, since it is the only one left in the lot. "Oh, I know, I am sorry. I thought I was just going to be running in." "IT DOESN'T MATTER.. YOU ARE NEVER TO PARK THERE." She is in my face as she is saying this and the kids are staring at her open mouthed, with their chocolate drool running down their chins. "DIDN'T YOU READ WHAT IT SAYS ON THESE STALLS?" "Yes, visitor parking only?" "NOOOAH!!!...IT SAYS VISITOR DROP OFF AND EWE WERE EEN THERE FUR FOURTY MINUTES.!!!...I SAW A MAN WITH OXYGEN PARK ACROSS THE STREET AND WALK OVER!!!" "Well, couldn't he have parked right next two me, in these other two open spots?" "THAT'S NOT THE POINT!" Then she berated me for another minute or two until I had had enough. "OK, I hear you. Thank you." She is walking away from me, still yelling, "YOU SHOULD LEARN TO READ!" "I HEAR YOU," I now yell, "THANK YOU!" Dalton looks at me like "Aren't old ladies supposed to be nice to each other and not go all World Wrestling Federation Smack down on each other?" I just said, "She was mean." And got in the car. And then I thought about how she probably had a shitty life. Her pants were pulled up to her armpits, and she had obviously been stalking my car, just waiting to release her pent up rage. But she was a jerk. I almost walked back in and asked for her name so that I could report her...for what?...badgering someone who was parked illegally?...but she was a cop...of some sort...so I didn't want her to arrest me...not that I think she can...I think she's like a Mall cop. But she could probably call in for back up...and I didn't want to do a high speed chase in my Saturn. My day had already been crazy enough.

So, now I am at home, trying to figure out if I should play this card with my professor to get me an extra week on the midterm that I have not studied for, or if I should just get it over with? And I am dreading the look on my Mother's face when she comes to babysit tomorrow night while I go take my test, and sees her dying babies. Garrett can't even have a diaper rash, without her questioning my maternal judgement, let alone the plague from the end-of-days sprouting all over his body.

And then there is Dalton, "her" first born...the heir to her everything, over there moaning in the corner. Yes, we look like we are going to hell in a hand basket here in my home. She knew that I shouldn't be left alone with them!...and now look at what I've done. It'll only take about 20,000,000 units of Vitamin C and a million gallons of water, with bananas for potassium, and some fervent prayers and then they will be cured by her maternal wisdom. Oh, that wicked mother of theirs!

And so, as if Wednesday could not get any worse, there is Thursday to look forward to: Gavin still in Boston, a midterm I am not prepared to take, two sick boys, a very bored and very verbal almost five year old, and Grandma swooping in to save us all. Heaven help us.
To put your mind at ease, I will tell you that once Dalton had a good ol dose of Motrin, he was right as rain, and fell asleep watching a rebroadcast of the BYU V. USU game. I know- I only allow it because he's ill.
And normally I would not put a picture with my kid's booty in it, but here you go. And what you can't see are the gazillion bumps that are not red...cause there are zillions more that just blend in to with the skin.

Look at how nice those bangs are! This is Gavin on the phone for me, right before he hears of the Hell that he escaped by being on his business trip this week.