Last night, when I wrote that post about my stomach virus, I had no idea that the worst was yet to come. I have never in my life been so sick.
Before I had Caroline I hadn’t had a stomach virus in probably 10 years. Now, I average one every 6 months. Having a child is the equivalent of having one of those African monkeys that spread rampant disease.
Except my child is potty-trained and not from Africa.
I woke up this morning around 9:30. P got up with Caroline and mercifully, let me sleep in. Since the head of our bed is right against the wall to our master bath, no one knew better than him what a horrendous night I had. Every now and then throughout the night, he’d call out, “Do you need anything?”
Yes. A better immune system.
And new intestines.
And some Phenegran.
Maybe a mallet to put myself out of my misery.
However, those things are hard to come by at 3:30 a.m.
Anyway, I stumbled into the living room this morning feeling as if I’d been run over by a bus and then a truck. P took one look at me and said, “You look awful”.
I do. I look awful.
It would seem that the evening’s festivities caused me to break little blood vessels all over my face, especially around my eyes. Caroline said, “OH MAMA! You have the chicken pox”.
I should be so lucky. The chicken pox would look good compared to what is going on in my facial area.
I have some major complexion issues that don’t appear to be subsiding as the day goes on. Picture deep red freckles all over my face and then multiply the hideousness of that image by 1,000.
Needless to say, I have had happier Columbus Day celebrations.
Caroline had the day off school so I had envisioned spending Columbus Day building small scale models of the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria while giving her a rich history lesson of Columbus and his amazing voyage across the ocean way back in 1492.
Or, I thought we could go to Target.
Neither of those things came to pass.
Instead, Caroline spent the morning with P. They made bullets in the backhouse, because that’s what little girls do.
Around lunchtime she came inside and wanted a bowl of oatmeal for lunch. I figured I could power through making a bowl of oatmeal. I lovingly microwaved the oatmeal and set it in front of her, while desperately trying not to get sick. She took one look at it and said, “That looks BISGUSTING. Did you throw up in this bowl?”
And I wondered if I could trade her in for one of those monkeys from Africa.
But instead, had P take her over to Mimi’s house for the rest of the day. Thank God for Mimi.
I went back to bed and slept for 3 hours because I was too sick to even watch T.V.
Let your brain wrap around the seriousness of that statement.
On the plus side, in yesterday’s comments, Leslie reminded me of a line from “The Devil Wears Prada”, “I’m just a stomach flu away from my goal weight”.
I’m well on my way. Especially since I only ate 2 Saltines today. If I keep this up I’ll be able to go into the holiday season with a 5 pound deficit. That way, when I gain 10 pounds from eating all the pie, I’ll still just be 5 pounds on the plus side.
But I must be on my way to recovery because I’m actually starting to think about a cheeseburger from Whataburger. For some reason, this is my cure-all. When I had morning sickness with Caroline, I knew that a Whataburger cheeseburger with extra mustard would ease my misery.
And no, I am definitely not pregnant. I just enjoy the healing properties of mustard.
With a side of fries.