Speechless-- just like the little mermaid!

As last week was winding down, I found myself looking out our windows at the airplanes taking off from Reagan Airport. And for the first time in 8 months, I wasn't dreading the possibility that I might be on one soon. I wasn't quite excited, but I was ready to tackle our upcoming trip.
"Wow, you really chose the wrong lifestyle," a friend told me when I told her how much I hated traveling. And it's not so much that I hate exploring new places and seeing the world. I love that! I just hate the actual traveling part of it. It's like saying, "Oh, I hate having kids." Well, I don't hate the kids, but the actual birthing part and the months of dazed stupor afterwards leave something to be desired. But they're a necessary evil if you want the sweeties afterwards.
The weekend rolled around, and I started working on all the packing we needed to do before the movers arrived. Kevin and I went through all the girls' clothes and got rid of the too-smalls, too-wintries, and too-uglies. Our next baby is a boy, and there's no reason to ship giant tubs of baby girl clothes around the world when I'm not planning on needing them soon, if ever.
And that's about all I got done. By Saturday night, it was clear that I was getting sick. And on Sunday it was clear that I was SICK. The movers came on Monday, and while the fever wasn't too bad, I had completely lost my voice. Kevin did 98.9% of the packing and directing, while I curled on the couch in fetal position-- until the boxes were off my bed, and then I transferred there. The 1.1% of work I contributed was to go through the kitchen and say "yea" or "nay," by opening or closing cupboards. The system wasn't completely fail-proof, and our oregano did wind up getting shipped. (They train drug-sniffing dogs by using oregano, so they tell you not to ship it. I hope it doesn't hold up our shipment!!) Also, a big cupboard of baggies, tin foil, and towels must have gotten kicked shut, because it wasn't packed. But you know what? I had more important things on my mind ("Unnnnnggggghhh..." to be precise). Kevin took care of the shipment, sent our car off on her cruise to Brazil, watched, fed, played with, and entertained the girls for the rest of the next three days. I just lay in bed being sick, and also wondering why Ariel didn't just whisper when the sea witch had taken her voice. I mean, a lot could have been cleared up!
By Thursday, it was inevitable: we had to travel. Most people look forward to trips to Hawaii, but we had a 14-hour travel day starting at 4:00 a.m. Kevin took care of everything while I just took rounds of Tylenol and Robitussin and tried not to keel over. And it turns out, while my family now think it's normal for me to whisper to them, random people on the airplane and in the airport do not. Oh well. At least I don't use a fork for a hairbrush.
Thanksgiving: We moved the meal to Friday, and I was in charge of cooking a "simple" meal. I am really glad I revised my original plan and decided to use canned cranberry sauce, whipped cream from a bottle, and store-bought rolls. All that really needed to be done was the potatoes, sweet potatoes, turkey, and gravy. No big deal, and Kevin helped me out big time! I'm starting to realize there is nothing this man cannot do.
The girls are having a great time with their cousins. I can hear them playing, hollering, and bossing them around even from up here in my sick room upstairs. It makes me happy to know they get that from me-- though you wouldn't know from this week!
I'm hoping I eventually get my voice back. I'm hoping I just plain get better! But most of all, I'm hoping that I don't spread this joyful experience with anyone. Because I can't understand my kids when they whisper.