Sharing is caring...unless it's germs. And Mommas don't get to party.

Small and Mini like to sleep in the same bed.  It's a repercussion of all the bed-sharing and co-sleeping we did when they were babies.  This is not a complaint, just a fact.  When they first got their "big boy beds" at  2 years old, they used them for about five minutes before they came back to our bed.  A lot of parents might try to think of a "sleep solution,"  but  not us.  We love sleeping with our minions, and even at 8 and 6, they will come get in bed with us on occasion.  It was not a rare event when we woke up in the mornings with a bed full of minions.  But not so much anymore.  Once Small and Mini started sharing a room, they also started sharing a bed.  When we do our bed-time routine, they always start out in their own beds, but before Geegy & I go to bed, they will always be together, sharing in one bed or the other.

They are so sweet when they are sleeping together. I always have to peek in on them, because it's the best part of my day, watching my minions sleep peacefully, their arms around their favorite stuffed animals on one side, and arms around each other on the other side.  They are so beautiful in those moments, so close, sharing their blankets, sharing their pillow, sharing their dreams.  (They actually do this, it's uncanny.  But that's a post for another day.)  Sharing their germs.

Yup, that's the clincher.  Right there.  Sharing. Germs.  It's not bad enough that they bring those icky, nasty little bugs into our home from that bacteria and virus infested petri-dish experiment we call "school."  But then they have to go and share them with each other while they sleep.  All breathing and touching and hugging on each other.  And the result of their precious little bed-time habit is, what should have been  an awesome two week spring break turned into a rousing game of what sickness can we get next? Complete with fevers, coughing, sore throats, runny noses, stuffy sinuses, vomiting, hives, and we did so well we even got a bonus round of pink-eye-for-all!  It was like every morning I'm rolling a d20, and anything below 21 is a new illness for the day.  Roll an additional d6 to see if you get to keep your illness/es from the day before.

So we have spent the last twelve days cuddling under blankets, playing video games, getting intimate with Netflix for Kids, and trying to find new and interesting ways of serving up chicken noodle soup. (Soup again, mom?  Did you forget how to cook?)   Despite sequestering Micro from the larger minions who brought all these germs home, his little undeveloped immune system just couldn't handle the onslaught of the battle-ready germs.  I mean, we were all breathing the same air, and seriously, breast milk can only do so much, amirite?  Even Geegy became a casualty of the Great Spring Break Germ War of 2013 as well, missing two whole days of work.  It's a good thing I have a super-hero strength immune system, because I swear, it would be absolutely miserable to have to take care of all these sickies if momma didn't feel well also.  Mommas aren't allowed to get sick!  Super-Wonder-X-Momma takes care of everyone!

So when you have three sick minions, and a temporary sick Geegy, there's not a lot of time to do things you normally would.  Pretty much all your time is sucked up with washing sheets and blankets and pajamas, constantly wiping down door-knobs, counter-tops, floors, and little fingers.  And running to do every little thing the minions ask of you.  There came a point that I thought it might just be easier to have everyone live in the tub until it was all over.  There's no time left over for actual real-life things.  Like sanity, or showers.  (It's ok, I washed my hands so much this week, I don't ever need to buy sandpaper again.  I can just sit here on the sofa and use my hands to exfoliate myself, and maybe take care of that pesky leg-hair problem, too.)  You also don't get to go grocery shopping.  Or do any cooking of any kind.  Or doing the ACTUAL laundry because of all the aforementioned sick laundry.  Poor Micro even had to wear a ghetto diaper, made from flannel receiving blankets, because I didn't notice the diaper stash dwindling.  Twice.  You also don't get things ready for the two parties you have coming up.  And when, finally, the cruds start retreating and creeping out of the house, the minions are starting to show signs of life, and it's the day of your first party, and you wake up with a small tickle in the back of your throat, you pretty much ignore it.  Because mommas don't get sick.  And dang, this house needs to get CLEANED UP!  Like, NOW!  Cuz I swear if I step on ONE MORE Lego while running in the dark to comfort you in the middle of the night.... uh, sorry.  That's another blog post as well.

Ah, but Minion Momma, you forgot about the One Rule of Mothering:  Momma doesn't get to have a real social life.  Or really, any kind of life that doesn't involve the minions at all.  You forgot that all other rules bow down to this rule.  It is the One Rule to Rule Them All. 

Momma.  Doesn't.  Party.

Yes, I had done it.  I had Made Plans.  Plans that didn't involve the minions.  And the One Rule did NOT like that at all.  It took my plans, chewed them up, then spit out a bone and used it as a tooth-pick.  The One Rule was about to show my Plans who was boss, Venom Style.  By the time breakfast was over, my "little tickle" had developed into a cough and sore throat.  By the time the dishes were done, I had added in some sinus pressure.  By the time I was ready to sweep and mop, my head felt like it was about to explode.  By the time I was hoping to nurse Micro to sleep and have time to take a shower and prepare the food, I felt the icy hands of death, chilling me to the bone and squeezing all sense and reason out of my fevered brain.  And by the time I had finished contacting everyone to say the party was cancelled, I had completely lost my voice, and realized that I had, in one day, contracted every illness the minions managed to share over the past twelve days.  Because, the only rule that trumps Mommas don't get sick, is that Mommas don't get to socialize.

The evening wasn't a total loss.  Geegy was especially helpful, offering to pick up pizza for dinner, taking Small and Micro with him, setting up a dishes-free picnic in front of a family-friendly movie, and making sure I wasn't going to pass out with food in my mouth. The hot steamy shower was nice, up until Micro needed me to feed him.  Rather than make the effort to get up off the shower floor, I just had Geegy strip him down and hand him to me.  After that I was able to just lay down with Micro in the bed and cuddle and feed him at will, and almost couldn't hear Geegy yelling at the minions to keep quiet up there so Momma could get some sleep! 

And even this morning wasn't bad, despite not getting any sleep and Micro waking up at 5:00 am.  My alarm mysteriously went off at 5:15 to ensure he didn't go back to sleep.  Small woke up early too, and we spent the morning playing Gran Turismo while Mini slept in.  Shortly after breakfast Small and Mini went to a neighbor's to play, leaving me and Micro alone to cuddle up and watch Netflix.  Because the next best thing to having a social life and friends and conversations that don't revolve around farts and Bey Blades is sharing a big fluffy feather blankie with a minion, sipping on some orange juice, and watching Richard Armitage be tall, dark and brooding.

There, there, Momma.  Take a sip.  Good, good.  Now look at that Micro smile.  Isn't that precious?  Now look at Richard smile.  See?  Everything is all better now.  Now close your eyes, dollface.  You don't need that pesky social life.

But that's a post for another day, too.