Inevitably I catch what the kids have. When they bring their germ soaked hands home from school and touch stuff in my house, it is a matter of time before I catch it.
Monday when I got home from work Jessica was greenish grey, sitting on the couch... I asked her if she felt okay and she could barely answer. Doug had ordered pizza, and for Jessie to NOT have a piece, seeing as she's queen of all things mushroomy and cheesey, well. That was bad.
I got the little bucket Geoff had used at Grandma's and made his own (thanks Grandma) and put it in front of her. She made good use of it and I got there just in time.
So here it goes. One kid had, next kid gets... mom is next.
All night Monday Jessica was in and out of the bathroom. Because she didn't eat anything only the first two throwup sessions were productive. The rest of it was dry heaving. She was hit more by the trots than anything else... and spent a good amount of time in the front bathroom, which she pretty much has made her own.
Tuesday morning early, I got up to use the bathroom before the alarm went off and knew I'd be staying home with her. At about 8 am, I was in full blown discharge mode, unloading quite a bit. Jessie and I both slept all day, and Tuesday afternoon found us enjoying reading time to ourselves sans the men of the household.
When I put Geoff to bed on Tuesday night he wanted a bedtime story... mind you, he doesn't want a book read to him. He wants me to make it up. He suggests things and I have to make the story. I told him I didn't have the energy, that I was sick. He insisted that I was well... and Doug popped his head in and said, "no, mommy is sick, give her a break." As Doug started to read to him (reading from dad is acceptable), Geoff said to him "a glass of water will make my mommy well."
It almost made me cry. A glass of water stayed down, and I went to bed hoping it would stay that way. Wednesday morning came and I still wasn't right with the world. I thought at any second I'd once again spew, so I got everyone ready, called in sick, crawled back into bed with the book I'm reading, and passed out after two pages. I woke up an hour later to let the dog out (no one had taken him out yet that morning, so he was desperate) and then fell back into bed. Next thing I knew, it was 2:45pm. I started watching Fawlty Towers (Doug was concerned that he'd bought me a birthday present that I didn't like or want. Truth is I never get the TV to myself when I'm in the mood to do something like WATCH a video... I prefer to mindlessly surf until I stumble across "Raising Arizona" or "A Fish called Wanda" or something). So I watched FT, and the family came home from their school day. Jessica enjoyed the Hotel Inspector episode, and Doug and I died watching the "Germans" episode where Cleese is head injured and keeps bringing up the war.
I feel much better today. Still have a cough, but the hurling is over. I ate a small meal of spaghetti last night and had a bagel this morning. I'm not hungry for lunch, and will probably crawl out of here early.
Thing about all of this is I don't have the fever that goes with. Normally, there's a great fever with this kind of illness and you get to have all kinds of delusions and hallucinations. I've got some great fever memories, most of which aren't memories of events but memories of said mental apparitions that grew from hot brain matter frying in my skull.
I have a great deal of work to accomplish having been out for two days. So I ought to get to that.
As Homer Simpson said during his food poisoning fever episode: "Duff Gardens! Hurrah!" Now I black out and hit the keyboard with my foreh---------
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