That's German for swine flu, which has come knocking on our door this week. Little Man has spent the last two days in bed, coughing and sweating and generally being miserable. Big Man and I have spent the last two days (and nights!) cuddling, and dosing, and wiping his nose and tears.
The week started with Big Man battling the stomach flu, and he was home sick on Monday and Tuesday. Monday night, Little Man had a mild attack of the croup. Though not severe, it was scary watching him struggling for breath. He seemed fully recovered by morning, but it had been a looooong night, and it was a coooooold day, and I didn't want him running around the play yard all day, chasing friends at school. So we stayed home with Daddy on Tuesday.
Back to school and work on Wednesday, but only as a teaser, because in the wee hours of Thursday morning, Little Man woke with a soaring temperature and plunging spirits. He slept most of the day away, and then last night, his temp hit 105. We called the after-hours doctor, who referred us to the swine flu hotline, who assessed Little Man's symptoms and gave us an authorization number for a course of anti-viral meds to be picked up at a local 'collection point'.
It was funny, when we spoke of calling the doctor, Little Man said, 'Why don't we call Dr. Swanson? He's my favorite doctor.' Dr. Swanson is my PhD advisor. Wonderful guy, really, but his superior knowledge of the Dead Sea Scrolls isn't exactly the kind of help we need to battle the swine flu. ;)
Today, Little Man is camped out in our bed, with a box of tissues and the laptop, on which he is watching online television shows. I am not getting any work done, but I am getting lots of cuddles! Sigh.
Friday, 4 December 2009
A real tree!
This being the first time ever for us to celebrate Christmas away from our families, we are doing it up the best we can on our tiny budget. We've decided to have a 'charity shop' Christmas, meaning that all of our gifts will be bought in the charity shops (thrift stores). We're going to make all our own Christmas tree decorations, so we've been collecting cardboard for cut-out gingerbread men, and drying chestnuts for painting and stringing into a garland, and saving Little Man's construction paper for paper chains. We were even given a 3-foot tabletop tree, and some wrapping paper!
A live tree is the embodiment of Christmas celebrations in my nostalgia (no offense to either of our parents, who have both moved on to artificial trees, and I harbor them no ill will for it). Every year in my childhood, we visited a U-cut tree farm. We would roam through the trees, putting gloves and scarves on the ones we liked the best. After what always seemed like hours, my dad would crawl underneath the Chosen One and saw it off with his handsaw. I still remember how hard I had to work to get that saw to move when it was my turn to try. And I can feel the fir needles poking through my gloves as we carried it back to the car. And I can taste the little mini candy cane the proprietor gave out every year. And I can smell the pine scent that filled the house for weeks. So when Big Man suggested getting a live tree, I yearned with all my heart to go along with it, but didn't think we should spend the money (at least £20!). After all, we already have a tree.
So imagine the thrill when Big Man walked me home after work on Wednesday to a surprise: a real, live Christmas tree, bundled in netting and standing in a bucket outside our front door. In yet another instance to prove that God delights in giving gifts to His children, Big Man received a coupon from the building supply store where he shops regularly for work. A free Christmas tree with any purchase over a certain amount. Big Man needed to restock on light bulbs for several of the buildings on campus, and so, voila, the fulfillment of a silly but very dear wish for his loving wife.
We haven't decorated it yet, because we're currently battling swine flu in our household, but that's another post, and in the meantime, the back porch smells just like Christmas!
A live tree is the embodiment of Christmas celebrations in my nostalgia (no offense to either of our parents, who have both moved on to artificial trees, and I harbor them no ill will for it). Every year in my childhood, we visited a U-cut tree farm. We would roam through the trees, putting gloves and scarves on the ones we liked the best. After what always seemed like hours, my dad would crawl underneath the Chosen One and saw it off with his handsaw. I still remember how hard I had to work to get that saw to move when it was my turn to try. And I can feel the fir needles poking through my gloves as we carried it back to the car. And I can taste the little mini candy cane the proprietor gave out every year. And I can smell the pine scent that filled the house for weeks. So when Big Man suggested getting a live tree, I yearned with all my heart to go along with it, but didn't think we should spend the money (at least £20!). After all, we already have a tree.
So imagine the thrill when Big Man walked me home after work on Wednesday to a surprise: a real, live Christmas tree, bundled in netting and standing in a bucket outside our front door. In yet another instance to prove that God delights in giving gifts to His children, Big Man received a coupon from the building supply store where he shops regularly for work. A free Christmas tree with any purchase over a certain amount. Big Man needed to restock on light bulbs for several of the buildings on campus, and so, voila, the fulfillment of a silly but very dear wish for his loving wife.
We haven't decorated it yet, because we're currently battling swine flu in our household, but that's another post, and in the meantime, the back porch smells just like Christmas!
Delicious Irony
So, last week was Thanksgiving. We got to celebrate it twice, once at college and once at Dr. Swanson's (my adviser) house. The dinner at college has become a tradition, after only 1 year. In fact, we weren't going to do it again this year, but then people who were there last year (non-Americans, mind you!) said, 'But you have to! It's a tradition!' Hee hee. So, we did it again, and it was nice.
The irony was everywhere. First of all, we were celebrating Thanksgiving, the holiday that celebrates freedom from religious persecution in England, in England. Second, there were 40 people around our very, very long table, and only 10 of us were Americans! It was surreal but fantastic to celebrate our quintessential American holiday with people from Swaziland, Lebanon, Russia, Canada, Scotland, England, and Ireland.
We had a craft: everyone had to make a paper hat to wear to dinner; no hat, no food! The options were men's and women's pilgrim hats, or 'Indian' headbands with feathers. The girls split about 50/50 between the women's pilgrim hat and the headband, whereas only 3 of the guys went for the men's pilgrim hat. If you'd asked me beforehand, I'd have said that probably not a lot of people would get into the whole hat thing. It's amazing what people will do, however, in the name of getting into the spirit of a holiday; plus, all those 'foreigners' ;) didn't know any better. :D All but one person was wearing a hat when we finally sat down to eat!
After dinner, we all watched White Christmas on a big screen. It was a little bit of heaven for this very homesick expat. It was funny, though, to watch it through the eyes of others. The musical is yet another thing that is precisely American. It requires a suspension of disbelief in a way that other film genres don't, what with the sudden bursting into song for every imaginable human emotion. Oh well, our guests humored us, even if they don't feel the need to ever watch it again. So that was our first Thanksgiving dinner; the second was lovely as well, but that's another story.
The irony was everywhere. First of all, we were celebrating Thanksgiving, the holiday that celebrates freedom from religious persecution in England, in England. Second, there were 40 people around our very, very long table, and only 10 of us were Americans! It was surreal but fantastic to celebrate our quintessential American holiday with people from Swaziland, Lebanon, Russia, Canada, Scotland, England, and Ireland.
We had a craft: everyone had to make a paper hat to wear to dinner; no hat, no food! The options were men's and women's pilgrim hats, or 'Indian' headbands with feathers. The girls split about 50/50 between the women's pilgrim hat and the headband, whereas only 3 of the guys went for the men's pilgrim hat. If you'd asked me beforehand, I'd have said that probably not a lot of people would get into the whole hat thing. It's amazing what people will do, however, in the name of getting into the spirit of a holiday; plus, all those 'foreigners' ;) didn't know any better. :D All but one person was wearing a hat when we finally sat down to eat!
After dinner, we all watched White Christmas on a big screen. It was a little bit of heaven for this very homesick expat. It was funny, though, to watch it through the eyes of others. The musical is yet another thing that is precisely American. It requires a suspension of disbelief in a way that other film genres don't, what with the sudden bursting into song for every imaginable human emotion. Oh well, our guests humored us, even if they don't feel the need to ever watch it again. So that was our first Thanksgiving dinner; the second was lovely as well, but that's another story.
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