Apparently my thirties are trying to set low expectations. I officially turned 30 on Sunday, and while my twenties went out with a fabulous family trip to Chicago, my thirties haven't started with quite the same flair. I started feeling sick on the evening of my birthday. Then, on Monday, chaos ensued. B&F both had a high fever, and I got a nice bath of vomit from Barnes before bed. We're now 4 days into these fevers, and Frances was diagnosed with croup this afternoon. I didn't even know croup existed--I thought it was just something that old people said--but apparently it is a real, diagnosable condition. Fun.
The bad news is that it's been a long week. The good news is my thirties have to get better from here.