"It's the most wonderful time of the year,.."...or is it?

Two weeks ago, almost to the hour, my little Ruby started running a fever. Since that hour, our family has suffered a scourge of illnesses. Is it because there are so many of us? Is it because we are so free with our hugs and kisses? Is it because our house is the size of a dollhouse? One stomach bug (only one, thank you, Father!), 6 colds, two rounds of sore throats with fevers, 2 pairs of pink eyes, one bronchial infection, one asthma flare-up, and a partridge in a pear tree, yada, yada, yada. We've been pent up in our dollhouse for 14 days with only brief outings to church or the doctor. Every time I hear the Christmas song that begins "It's the most wonderful time of the year,..", I nearly wretch. Clearly the person who penned that ditty did not live in New England with four children cooped up breathing radiated heat for 6 months out of the year. When the temperature spiked 49 degrees a few days ago I made a dash to raise the windows to try to purge the germs that have colonized our home. I had a moment..one of those when I think to myself "Did I just do that?". Did I, a native Southerner, just raise my windows when the temperature was below 75? Yes, I did. Andy says I've "acclimated", a true New Englander. I would have believed him had I not have been brought back to the truth about my identity by the smell of biscuits baking in the oven.

We have survived the scourge. Fever free since Tuesday, but hiding out so new germs aren't introduced into our home. We have to stay well so we can have our Christmas with the Markerts on Sunday then hop on the midnight train to Georgia on Christmas Day.

Pink used to be her favorite color. Can you see her eyes? Pitiful.

Jack has been such a good boy to sit patiently for the nebulizer treatments.