Oh, my gosh, you guys, the stomach bug. So. yucky. And it lasts forever. Our family, as a general rule, doesn’t get stomach bugs very often. Pretty much my kids only throw up due to transportation issues. But J’s recent sickness caught up with me on Monday, and it was about 24 hours of sheer misery followed by days of pregnancy-style queasiness. So. Let me catch you up. We were at Jiminy Peak for our annual trip Sunday through Tuesday. As always we had a terrific time, and the girls are skiing great. This year J in particular has gotten so much better: Cute W and I have speculated it’s because she’s a super-strong powerhouse from all her gymnastics. She’s the youngest of the pack of girls, so she gets a little fretful sometimes, but when she forgets about everybody else, she’s really an excellent skier. I think that the girls are both officially kicking my butt now.
Anyway, I was a little off by late Monday, and then on Tuesday I was definitely not myself. The morning of skiing was fun, but I made the mistake of eating lunch with my delicate stomach (how can you resist tomato bisque and a grilled cheese sandwich after skiing all morning?), and suddenly my life sucked. I bowed out of skiing before the rest of my family, so I was loading the car in spite of my misery because I was just ready to go home. Then I’d finished packing and we’d already checked out of the hotel room, and there were friends and people gathered in the one remaining hotel room, but I couldn’t bring my contagion there, so I chose a random couch in someone else’s checked-out room where housekeeping hadn’t come through yet and half-slept until the family was ready to roll. By the time we arrived home I went straight to bed, teeth chattering & feverish, with poor Cute W to deal with the unpacking and laundry. The next day wasn’t great, either, and since then I’ve had that sort of low-level, pregnancy style nausea that makes everything smell bad and almost every food unappealing. But I think it’s finally over. Tonight I ate my first real meal in a while, so let there be great rejoicing. And between our mini-vacation and my physical and mental check-out for the past few days, I’m completely discombobulated, but that’s okay.
We’ve got a busy weekend, including gymnastics, a soccer game, and all sorts of church activities before Cute W heads out for a Sunday afternoon business thing, so I’m hoping to be 100% tomorrow. So send me your good health karma please.
Oh, and today I arrived home to find M poking around and reading the blog. She was chuckling over my leprechaun rant, which doesn’t surprise me. It annoys her that I refuse to concede that imaginary creatures are imaginary, and there it was: a full confession. I thought that we might have some sort of beautiful and bonding moments, but then she read In the NICU and she was basically mocking my pain, laughing and saying what’s the big deal about holding a baby? And I had to pull the old, maybe someday, if you become a mother when you grow up, you’ll understand. . . . Which only led to more smirking. And then I told her that she seriously had to stop talking about it or I was going to get mad. And I must have had the scary tone, because she dropped it. Phew.