Why I love sick kids...

Last Saturday, after having two friends spend Friday night, Savannah was viciously attacked by the flu virus. Literally, one minute she was fine and the next she was all whiny and grumpy and sleepy-looking. I figured the girls had just had too much fun too late into the night, so I ran friend #2 home as #1 had already been picked up. Come the middle of the night she developed a cough, so I went in to check on her and she was BURNING up with a fever.

Sunday it was still so high, and she was so sick, I decided to run her to the instacare where she was immediately diagnosed with everyone's favorite flu. The one that I had her signed up to be vaccinated against if the CDC could ever get it together enough to get enough vaccines out there. Anyway, I digress... The doctor prescribed her some tamiflu, so we were off on our merry way. Now most people don't have nausea and vomiting with swine flu, but because she's my daughter, she did. Good times! Luckily that part only lasted the one night.

So I've been home taking care of her all week, which really hasn't been the most horrible way to spend the week, until yesterday, when I came down with the now-familiar symptoms :(

Since I have no energy to do anything but think, I've been thinking how much nicer it is to deal with kids when they are sick than when they are, oh - let's say 17-and 15-year old boys. Sick kids are warm and cuddly, perfect for snuggling up to on snowy days like today. 15 and 17 year old boys are not, even when they ARE sick.

Sick kids are quiet and polite, and argue with you over nothing. Teenagers are the exact opposite (especially that arguing over nothing thing!). Sick kids are grateful for all you do for them, even if it's just covering their feet with a blanket or giving them a drink of water. Sick kids don't want anything other than chicken noodle soup for any given meal. Teenagers want anything BUT chicken noodle soup, and after you cook some gourmet dinner, they will declare it gross because it has either onions or tomatoes in it. Sick kids understand how you're feeling and the fact that any noise higher than a whisper can make your head pound. Teenagers do not know any volume less than 500-decibels.

Savannah is recovering to the point now that she's helping to take care of me, and we can snuggle together on the couch and watch mindless hours of daytime tv (which, by the way, generally sucks) as our little inner furnaces blast away. It's not quite the way I foresaw spending a week of my life, but it could be worse.