I hate this time of year, with regards to feeling like you have to don a Haz-Mat suit whenever you go out in public for fear of catching the flu. Both girls woke up in the wee hours of the morning with the stomach flu. And by woke up with of course I mean were awakened by their stomachs violently emptying themselves of their contents. This was the real thing, too, not like the faux-flu that Rafe had last week.
Is it just me, or do you start to feel queasy the instant your child comes down with the puking flu? So you start to be very careful about what you eat, judging each food item on its vomitability. Angelfood cake? Yes, that sounds nice and easy to bring back up, I’ll have that for breakfast.
But later in the day things kind of take a swing. Oh, I just need to eat more. That will settle my stomach. It just needs food to stop it from rumbling like a freight train. And suddenly deviled eggs and pepperjack cheese sounds like a perfectly delightful lunch, despite how low they rank on the vomitability scale.
But maybe that’s just me.
When my kids reminisce about what it was like to stay home sick, the image that will surely stick out in their minds is one of me with a can of Lysol strapped to my body in a hip holster. Not very motherly, I think. More like germ-phobic maniac.
On a completely different note, Matt finally noticed that I’ve been writing some of my favorite quotes on our egg cartons. The egg cartons are just blank, gray cartons. They needed a little livening up.
“Are you writing little sayings on the egg cartons?”
I got that roll of the eyes which means, “I am going to catch all kinds of crap about that when I take them to work and try to sell them.” Linemen, apparently, are not down with the beauty of little sayings on their egg cartons.