I'm not sure any of you have heard, because it's mostly a really big secret. Please allow me to enlighten you, and bust this secret wide open. So there's this flu going around, and it's caused by swine. Pigs. The nice name for it is H1N1. The ugly name for it is Swine Flu. Ever hear of it?
Didn't think so.
Or, you may have heard it mentioned it once, or thrice, or a bazillion times on the news.
Or, like me, a bazillion times twelve.
Really, media. We get it. Swine flu sucks. Wash your hands. Keep your hands away from your face. Don't pick your nose and give the germs an entry.
But hey. How about this? How about you just don't go digging in your nose at all? Ever. But if you do, at least have the decency to scrub those dirty hands. And how about you always wash your hands after you touch germy stuff like public door handles and toilet flushers? Scrubbing the feces off your mitts to avoid the transferring of germs would be an awesome idea. Awesome.
As if parents don't have enough to be scared about. Now this?
As if we don't have enough crap on our plate. Now, if we want our kids vaccinated, we have to wait outside for five hours?
My kids have not received the H1N1 vaccine yet, mostly because I am not a sadist. I want them to get the vaccine, and I hope my doctor's office or a local clinic gets it soon. But my idea of a complete and total parental nightmare would be to try and entertain my kids for anywhere from 3-5 hours in a long line of people, so that once we get to the Promised Land, a.k.a. The End of the Line, they would be rewarded with a shot in the arm. The end result would be four crying kids, four tired kids, four hungry kids, four punished kids, (I'm just assuming that one or more of them would punch or do something in that amount of time that would warrant a punishment) and one fed-up, and bitchy mom.
Yeah. It made me shudder just thinking of it.
So until my kids get the vaccine, I'll just have to remain in this permanent state of paranoia every time they get a fever, have a sore throat, or sport runny boogers coming out of their noses.
I assure you. It's buckets o' fun. Buckets.
Darn you swine flu. If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times. This little piggy can go to the market, this little piggy can stay home, this little piggy can have roast beef, or none, but stay outta my house.
Now it seems like everyone is getting swine flu. All the cool kids have it. And they're surviving it and doing just fine now. That gives me hope. And as Martha would say, "It's a good thing."
Henry has been sick since Sunday, and I'm all, swine or no swine? He's about 83% better now, so if it was swine, it was a mild case (is there such a thing?). Whatever it was, it has now started it slow and evil descent into my home.
Mwwwahhh ha ha ha. Oink.
That's what Swine Flu sounds like. For reals. I picture it with this sinister laugh/oink combo.
George is starting to come down with something, which I dread. I dread it because it is one part scary, and two parts hellish, because George, as pleasant and easygoing as his personality is, will never, ever, nuh-uh, no way, in no uncertain terms, hell no, take medicine. It's not that a little Motrin will take down the Swine Flu. But Motrin reduces fevers, and fevers scare me.
I hope that a representative from Family Services doesn't happen to be taking a leisurely stroll by my house on that random night that George happens to be sick. Because he will find Bill holding George's head, and me practically straddled and splayed across the top of little George, shooting a dollop of orange Motrin down his throat as George screams, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"
It's quite the Norman Rockwell moment. Truly heartwarming.
Believe me. We have tried bribery. Gift-giving. Cajoling. Pleading. Begging. Mixing it in applesauce. Putting it in cup of juice. Offering lollipops. Offering it in chewable tablet form. Every darn thing. But George is decidedly anti-medicine. If there was a political group that was anti-medicine, George would be their top lobbyist. Their House Majority Leader. Their King. Their Messiah.
He will take chewable vitamins, so I have tried calling the chewable Tylenol tablets "vitamins". I know. I'm terrible. But if you think that's terrible, you should have seen me on the desperate day when I was thisclose to calling it "candy".
I didn't do it, of course, but I can't say that it didn't cross my mind. About a thousand times.
So now Bill and I have resorted to holding George down and forcing medicine down his throat, when he truly, desperately needs it, i.e. he spikes a fever of 103.
I hope he's not getting sick. Ugh. I dread it for so many reasons.
Welcome swine flu. I hope your stay here is very unpleasant.
I plan on Lysol-ing your ass to the curb.