Okay, peeps.
Goodness.
Let's start with a disclaimer:
I'd really love to say that I'll somehow, someway, eventually, with divine intervention, be able to get back to the golden days of posting 3-5 times a week on this here blog, but...I think I just have to call a spade a spade and admit that it ain't gonna happen!
Please know that I still adore musing and posting and journaling, so never fear that I'll throw in the towel altogether (all three of you who likely read this).
But, I think I have to admit that I'm in a much different life stage (SHOCKER) than when I started sharing our happenings nearly FOURTEEN YEARS AGO (gasp/outrage/etc.), so perhaps I'm doing A-okay just sharing as I'm able.
The thoughts and moments and projects and milestones and challenges that I share here are all precious to me (some of them only in retrospect, ha), so I'll continue onwards and upwards! But maybe just try to give myself a little bit of grace when I only post once a week and then over-post to catch up, ha.
Okay...The End.
But, just the beginning of this actual post.
Now. Where to start?
(And a Warning to go with the above Disclaimer: This one might be a long one!)
* * *
Welp.
I think the most logical place to start is with the admission that we had kind of a SHITE SHOW of a holiday break.
There. I said it. I got it out there (whew).
IN THEORY, there were so many beautiful things on our agenda for the holiday. New traditions (no more Santa!) exciting travel (hello, Panama!), a family visit (I swear, Nanna: ONE of these days you'll come to see us and things will be calm and glorious [just kidding]), and, most importantly, some MUCH-NEEDED DOWN TIME.
But. Like a lot of things in life, our theoretical plans turned into actual disasters.
I'm only now--a full week back into the swing of things--able to take a moment and dive into a recap and retrospective. And I'm only doing it to purge myself so we can move onwards and upwards with a clean slate.
M'kay?
M'kay.
Now. Let's rewind it back to Monday, December 22nd, when we celebrated our family Christmas before our final push toward getting out of town.
We had a wonderful, amazing (slightly exhausting) day. Then, by evening, my Chica admitted to not feeling so hot. But, we attributed it to exhaustion (the December push was REAL) and the need for a holiday break (we were in luck; we'd just launched one, right?!).
But by mid-morning the following day, she was no bueno. And as we were packing and scrambling to, you know, leave the country for a handful of days over a major holiday no less, we started to get a little concerned about the complications.
We took her into Urgent Care and all her tests were negative, as her symptoms had only recently presented, but...based on her heart rate and a whole heap of other evidence, the doc guessed that she was likely Flu positive and was basically like: do what you can; treat the symptoms; be cautious.
Which meant we had a really difficult decision on our hands (stating the obvious, here).
The trip to Panama had been planned for ages--and dreamed about even longer. What would it look like if we stayed home? How much regret would we have? What if Chica didn't end up all that sick? What if she did and we were out of the country?
There was no right answer and it was pretty mentally grueling to think through it all.
When we woke Wednesday morning and had to get a read on Chica's health and her vibe, she asked us to explore delaying/re-booking travel (which broke my heart, as the request from her, specifically, meant that she was NOT feeling well), but a quick investigation yielded what we already knew: traveling on Christmas Eve, to an atypical place, flying out of Austin...SO. MANY. COMPLICATIONS. We didn't have an option for re-booking. We pretty much had to be all or nothing.
We had to weigh the potential regrets and consult with Chica on her viability--not to mention, deal with the guilt of knowingly bringing a sick child on a plane to spread germs to everyone over the holiday. And in the end, we all decided the guilt and sadness of missing such a momentous trip would outweigh all other negatives.
So we proceeded with travel and headed to Panama (blessedly, through a direct flight).
We made it. She was exhausted. But stable (ish) with a fever, congestion, aches, headache, throat pain so severe she didn't really talk for 36 hours. And...zero appetite.
BUT. My girl was such a freaking trooper, not wanting to disappoint anyone, that she woke the next morning for our booked excursion and managed it for a couple of hours before she tanked.
You'd never know how she struggled by the pictures, but at a certain point midday, when she was fevered, in the insane humid heat, walking outside and famished (but not hungry)...she kind of tanked.
We paused as a giant group for a lunch break, and she perked up a bit after water a food (and more meds), but...thus continued the general vibe and cycle for the next four days:
Chica, determined to join in the activities and make it through.
Chica, getting exhausted; needing rest and more meds.
Parents, feeling heinous for dragging her/letting her be out and about.
Parents, modifying any activity or excursion to the best of our ability, to help her manage.
Honestly, this whole scenario and the way we managed would have been vastly different with each of our children. But the thing that worried (and always worries) me about Chica is that she's both stalwart and silent--a beautiful but dangerous combination, as she doesn't necessarily speak up when she's at a breaking point.
The most incredible day of accommodation came on the last full day we were in Panama, when we did our island excursion and the hubby managed to find and book a hotel room for Chica to rest and be out of the sun.
I honestly have
no idea how she would have made it had we not.
Also of note: this was 6-7 days after the first onset of symptoms, so by that point, she was beyond exhausted, weak from poor nutrition, and most definitely over-medicated. OYE.
But her fever had gone and we were hoping that once we returned home, she could rest up for the remaining week of the holiday and all would be well.
Little did we know we were about to enter a new phase with a new kid.
Just two short hours after I snapped the above pic of Chica sleeping in the hotel room next to me, Little Man and the hubby appeared at the room for a quick bathroom break and respite from the heat and activity of the beach before we boarded the ferry back to the mainland, and it was immediately evident that Little Man was NOT WELL.
At the time, I attributed it to needing hydration and air conditioning, and perhaps just some good old fashioned rest after a beach day (and five busy days before it!).
But...by the time we made it back to the hotel and he showered, his temperature had flared, his headache turned into body aches and all the signs that he was also struck down by the flu. UGH.
Yet again, we were in an awful travel position of hauling a kid onto a plane (the next morning) when they were knowingly ill. We tried to do everything we could to keep him comfortable and protect other passengers, but my boy was just down and out SICK.
It felt heinous to drag him through the airport, watch him fall into a fitful exhausted sleep anywhere we stopped for a moment (like in the terminal, below), and to imagine how much better it would be on these poor kiddos if we were just HOME.
But we knew home was on the horizon. Again, we had a direct flight into Austin and then just a 90-minute drive home, so we knew the end was in sight.
Though--SPOILER ALERT--this most definitely was not the end of our health challenges.
Still, what an AMEN, HALLELUIAH moment to make it home. To throw kids in showers and let them collapse on their own couch or in their own bed. It truly felt like we'd crawled to a finish line, and it was such a relief to be on home turf.
Still. I'm sorry to say that Little Man steadily declined and right before the pic below, I had a terrifying temperature ready of 105.6 (he was under his massive wearable blanket and we'd tried to let him sleep so he was overdue on meds). We threw him in the shower, plied him with medication, and had his temp
way down within half an hour. Thank. Heavens. But, obviously, I didn't get much rest that night as I was checking his temp and administering steady meds.
Welp.
The following morning, I was hoping we'd made it through the worst of his fever, and, if you can believe it, I had to divert a bit of attention to Nanna's impending arrival just a few hours later (She was BRAVE to come to our home of germs, yes???!).
She will be the first person to attest that I DID NOT CLEAN for her arrival. I made sure her bedroom and bathroom were sanitized and contained fresh (non-infected cheats), but that was literally the only place in the house that wasn't a hot mess express, and I'm pretty positive we didn't see the kitchen countertop for a solid week.
Suitcases were everywhere. Laundry was overflowing. Infected sheets and towels and blankets needed to be dealt with, and...
On the way home from grabbing Nanna from the airport, the hubby called to say that Chica had just thrown up. CHICA. As in, the one who was 8 days into her illness by that point.
Say...what?!
There wasn't much to do at that point but pull up my big girl panties even higher and head home to the illness and mess to start digging my way up and out.
And that's what we did for the next day or so.
I started trying to control what I could and write off all the rest. Which meant that I started taking down Christmas decorations to declutter my space (ill advised, but it happened).
We kept the laundry going, even though more piled up.
And Chica felt insanely nauseous, but with meds, we were able to keep her stable-ish.
Little Man, on the other hand, seemed to be doing fairly well. Leading us to believe that he'd benefitting from making it home relatively early in his illness so he could rest at home as much as possible and recover.
But...recover, he did not.
Instead, two days later (when he seemed to be through the worst of his flu), he woke and was unable to walk.
Yup. I typed UNABLE TO WALK.
Obviously, we were very alarmed, but a quick search told us this could be a rare side-effect from the flu, so we held off rushing to the emergency room to see if he just needed a bit of time and hydration throughout the day.
By late afternoon, he still couldn't bear weight or walk and we decided to take action. We went down the street to the same Urgent Care we'd visited the week prior with Chica and they heard the words "out of the country" and "fever spike of 105.6," and were like: yeahhhhhh, you're going to have to have a full panel of blood work to be safe, so you need to head to the ER.
Which was our next stop. (On New Year's Day, at that point).
Upon our arrival, bloodwork confirmed what the doctor suspected, which was a diagnosis of myositis: a muscular inflammation that stemmed from Little Man's flu, realeasing crazy high levels of creatine kinase in his body, making him unable to walk, and he needed round-the-clock fluids and blood monitoring to make sure it wasn't impacting his kidneys.
OYE.
As he had to be admitted, we had to be transferred to the downtown location, where we spent the next 24 hours.
He was exhausted, and the regular blood draws were really traumatic for him. But he was on steady fluids and getting all the care he needed. He wasn't able to stand until he'd been at the hospital for nearly a full day--at which point, he gradually started bearing weight and the bloodwork told us he was finally headed in the right direction.
Hallelujah!
Meanwhile...Chica woke in the middle of that same night, back home. The hubby was there while I was at the hospital with Little Man, so he was the one to deal with the output when poor Chica jolted from her sleep and vomited everywhere. All over her carpet and everything. It. Was. Brutal.
The hubby tried his best to tend to some of it, but it was a massacre. So the next day, as if we weren't exhausted enough, we had to move furniture and prep to have the carpets professionally cleaned so they wouldn't be destroyed forever.
I mean...just, ENOUGH, already!
Over the course of the remainder of the holiday break ("break," ha; don't make me laugh), Little Man and Chica continued with a rotation of two steps forward in their health, and one step back.
We took Chica in to the ER after Little Man was hospitalized, as she needed fluids and blood work of her own, out of precaution, given the number of days she'd been ill, and we thought she'd finally turned a corner at that point (about 11-12 days into her illness), but she still suffered another round of throwing up two nights later.
Meanwhile, Little Man would have a good day and then a bad one, and by the time they were supposed to return to school last Tuesday, neither of them were capable of a full day. We let Little Man attend for a few hours, and Chica not at all.
But, finally--FINALLY--on Wednesday, all three of my beautiful babies were at school, and I didn't know if I wanted to cry or scream, or...take a long winter's nap.
Honestly, I did none of three because I was still so keyed up and manic from a really, really rough two weeks that it's taken me a few more days to feel like I'm steady again, from a caretaker perspective.
The toughest part about all of this is that we really needed that holiday break. Our lives are so busy and full and the December madness had us so depleted that it was so disheartening to realize we not only didn't get to fill our empty cups over the break, but we depleted them, further.
It's been a hard re-immersion, as we're all still working to get over the exhaustion and to get back to feeling 100%. That said...throughout all of it, I was always keenly aware of a few things:
1. My kiddos are generally healthy; I knew this would pass.
2. The hubby, Chicklet and I somehow never managed to get sick, only by God's grace.
3. It was terribly-timed but helpful to have Nanna here as another adult on the hospital days.
4. What a blessing to be back in the country by the time Little Man needed hospitalization.
5. What an even bigger blessing to have medical insurance and access to care.
As I wrap up this not-so-great recap of our holiday break and the explanation for my radio silence, I've got to give a shout-out to my Chicklet, who survived being a little neglected while we were in the trenches with the other two kids.
Obviously, that's just parental LIFE; you have to go where you're needed most at any given moment, but I know (because she told me) that there was a part of her that wanted an illness and attention and pampering, because...wouldn't we all? We've been so overwhelmed since returning to normal life and the recovery continues, but I've been trying to give her as much love as I can.
Okay...GOODNESS. What a long and gloomy post, right?!
But I promise, this is kind of a two-partner and I'll be continuing with a second, much happier post about the steps we've taken to re-set mentally and physically over the last few days, and the high hopes we have for 2026.
Sometimes, holidays or events or vacations don't pan out how you'd hoped, but...you win some, you lose some, and you certainly make memories along the way! And there are always, always sparks of joy or tiny moments to appreciate, even on the really tough days!
Okay. More soon, peeps!
Over and out.
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