It has been a *rough* couple of weeks in our household.

Last week, Jack was down with the enigmatic "fever virus," which gives your toddler a low-grade fever for days.  I like to call it the "daycare slayer," because said fever means they cannot go to school, even though they look and act pretty darn fine.  He went back to school for one day last week, Friday, and was super psyched to be back.  Phew, breathed us, the parents.

Then, last Saturday, as we were enjoying a super fun weekend with our besties in from DC, Jack decided to make one of my deeply rooted parental fears come true.  He projectile vomited.  On our couch.

I have been afraid of the projectile vom day since he was born.  Sure, babies spit up, but that's no big deal.  However, maniacal toddlers eat everything that grown-ups eat, yet cannot control when, where, or with how much force they vom.  Enter:  My fears realized.  (Post on couch cleaning will be on the way soon.)

As it we weren't busy enough, and stretched thin enough, my body decided to go down for the count.  On Tuesday night, the eve of a Very Important Day at My Job, I got the projectile vom bit of Jack's plethora of illnesses.  Oh, crappity.

What happened?  I was sick. I missed The Thing at work.  It was okay, but definitely not great that I wasn't there.  I felt like doo doo, on both physical and professional levels.  Yes, it happens, but don't you remember?  I'm SuperMom.  It's not supposed to happen to Me.

**SIGH**

It is also Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new year.  We are not Jewish.  However, I have always had a sincere fondness for this holiday.

In order to shed some light on the meaning of this celebration, I am going to let the (credible on many levels) website for Jdate step in:

Serving as the Head of the Year, The Day of Judgment, and The Day of Remembrance, Rosh Hashanah is a Jewish Holiday for reflecting upon the past year, and looking forward to the blessings of the new year to come. The Jewish holiday Rosh Hashanah leads to the Ten Days of Penitence culminating on Yom Kippur, The Day of Atonement. Rosh Hashanah is the Day of Judgment where the inhabitants of the world come before G-d to be examined, as sheep pass for examination before the Sheppard. According to the Talmud, three books are opened on this Jewish holiday. The book of life is where the names of the righteous are inscribed, the names of the wicked are removed from the book of the living, and those in middle class are allowed ten days to repent and become righteous until the Jewish holiday Yom Kippur.

In the big picture?  You get to stop.  Reflect on what you've done well and done poorly in the past year.  You get to fill yourself with hope and new resolve for the good things to come in the next year.  And if you need to repent (and who doesn't?), you get ten days to work through it until the next High Holiday.

Uh, that's awesome, people.

And so, as I felt all trudgy and meh and sorry for myself heading back to work today, a friend reminded me that this is actually the perfect time to start fresh.  Get the ick out.  Say the sorries.  Kick this past year to the curb, because a new and totally awesome one is coming.

And so, I say to you, Shana Tova.

Here's to a sweet year,
Heather

This Week Was Brought to You by Amoxicillin

Just in case we were getting too comfortable, or good at, our daily routine, Jack decided to get sick.  Granted, I knew this would happen shortly after he started school.  He's been there for 3 weeks.  Frankly, I'm surprised it took this long.  That, plus the fact that his hands LIVE in his mouth right now, except for when they are touching germ-ridden things, makes his nasty cold not a surprise.

I am a little bit surprised, though, that I ended up taking two non-consecutive sick days this week as a result of said cold.  Granted, I know that I can't take the day off every time the munchkin gets a cold (particularly when he has no fever, which is the X factor for attending school).  However, it's his first cold, which means it's my first cold, which means I really want to make sure everything goes right.

Synopsis of my week:

Monday -- I am out sick.  I take Jack and I to our respective doctors.  This takes 5 hours to accomplish.  In an ironic twist, I get Amoxicillin; Jack does not.  Pediatrician is pretty sure he's on the way to kicking the cold.

Tuesday -- Work.  Jack seems to be getting better.

Wednesday -- Work.  Jack seems to be getting worse. 

Thursday -- I am out sick.  Jack and I go back to the pediatrician, who confirms that he is not, in fact, better, and prescribes Amoxicillin.  (In an ironic twist, I never filled my prescription for mine, because getting to the pharmacy while working full time with a cranky baby is difficult.  However, despite this laisez faire attitude toward my health, I am now better.)  Pediatrician waives my copay and apologizes for hauling us back in -- he just wanted to see Jack again because he's so young.  We love our pediatrician.

Perhaps the most notable event of the day, though, involves our wait in the doctor's office.  I fed Jack a bottle while we were waiting.  He took it contentedly.  He belched vigorously.  I felt like a champion mother on display.  That is, right until he spit up with volcanic force.  Horrified, I watched as the spit up covered my shoulder, cringed as it made a Batman-style "SPLAT!" on the floor, and gasped when I realized it had also sloshed into my open purse/diaper bag. 

Friday -- To be determined.

(Sigh)  Happy Almost-Friday, y'all.

Heather