Fun, Sun, and a Sore Bun

One dreary day in January, while lamenting the absence of our accountant husbands, my friend Al wished aloud that we could just take a trip together.

So I pulled a few strings and we set up a couple of nights at my parents' timeshare in Utah's Dixie. Thank you, Mom and Dad. That trip was last week.

Al and I packed ourselves and our five kids into my car and off we trundled, briefly stopping to see my sister along the way. A five hour car trip goes by faster with a friend to chat up.

The condo was great, but we quickly learned that this trip wasn't really going to provide any type of relaxation, just a change of scene for the endless task of entertaining our children. Oh the joys of year-round school. Bedtime was tedious and drawn-out, and all that big girl fun we thought we were going to have once the kids were asleep never really materialized. (sigh)

What we saw from our balcony:

A trip to the dollar store provided the goods for a few solid hours of occupation. Fairy wings for the little girls and coloring pages for all helped us start our full day at the condo.

Even though the sun was out, it still got quite cold at night, and by mid-morning it was still not warm enough for my blood. The kids were chanting for swimming, but we stalled them with a trip to the playground:

Squirm-Worm:
Then Al pulled out the big guns and we played every game she could think up.

Mother May I, and Red Light, Green Light:

Button, Button, Who's Got the Button (with money), followed by campfire songs with actions.

Dollar Store playdough:

Finally, we decided it was warm enough to swim. The kids were so happy, and I was happy the pool was heated.

My very own puppy:

Note: Pull-Ups are NOT the same as swim diapers, and Miss E's became so full it exploded. All the absorbent gel started squeezing up through her back and when I peeked in her swimsuit it looked like someone had dumped a snow-cone in there. That signaled the end of swim-time, but we'd been out there a while, so I was ready.

Throughout the trip, I'd been tired, and unable to get warm no matter what I did. I even sat in the sunlight wrapped up in a blanket while the kids played, but felt chilled regardless. The dumb rash I'd found on my left bum cheek just at waist-band level a few days before was really starting to bother me too. I had Al take a picture of it and texted it to my doctor who quickly diagnosed it as Shingles.

Call it psychosomatic, but after a little research on Shingles I came to the conclusion that A) I definitely DID have it (tell-tale signs are that it only presents on one side of the body, the rash forms in a banded pattern and is preceded by pain, all three on the mark for me) and that B) It really, really hurts. Shingles is caused by the Chicken Pox virus and lies dormant in your nervous system. Anyone who has had Chicken Pox can get Shingles. One random day, it picks a nerve to develop in, you get a blistery rash and lots and lots of nerve pain, which can feel burning, or itchy, or stabbing or many other wonderful combinations of pain. I've since seen my doctor and started taking an anti-viral Rx, but I'm told I can expect weeks of pain. Hooray!

So, we headed home the next day, which provided time for more girl talk, punctuated by crying babies, children who had to pee, fighting over dollar store toys, and requests for snacks. Little N, who had been complaining that her chest hurt, was diagnosed with pneumonia two days later.

In a nutshell, the trip was fun, and went about as smoothly as could be expected, but we all missed the daddies. Now we're all nursing our sicknesses, praying for sun and health to visit us here.

Running has been on hiatus, but I'm not giving up. More on that later.