December 28, 2011

Outside Temp: 46 F (not that I would know... I haven't stepped outside today)

What I cooked today:
Nothing.  Reasons below.

Update:
I hate being sick.

Katie was ucky most of yesterday, but I thought, being a mom, I was obviously immune.  Then last night (or this morning, depending on how you look at it), I woke up with that feeling in your tummy that lets you know you're going to throw up.  But maybe I won't.  Oh crap, maybe I will. 

A few minutes later, as I was whimpering on the floor of the bathroom, which was pretty cold, I started thinking of all the descriptions I could post on my blog today.  The searing pain in my nose and throat (reminder to self, plug your nose before you throw up, so it doesn't go up into your nasal cavity).  The smell... the racking aches. 

Then I realized that no one would want to read about those kind of things and what kind of a friend would I be, exposing you to those thoughts.  So, I crawled myself back into bed and fell asleep for at least 2 more hours, before the pain woke me up.  I spent about 30 minutes rolling back and forth in bed, cursing my bed for being inadequate, before I crawled my aching body to the recliner.  It was better, but far from good.  And not only because it took another 20 minutes of shivering under two comforters before it became remotely warm.

I stayed there, dozing on and off, for another 4-5 hours, grateful that most people in my house are late sleepers (except Allen, who was on the computer, with his headphones and not singing along).  By noon, I crawled back into my bed, where I complained to my sleeping husband for a good 10 minutes, before remembering that awesome invention called aspirin.  After 2 Excedrin (Extra Strength), and a 30 minute hot shower (where I ended up sitting on the floor of the tub, because it was just too hard to stand), I felt a little better.  But that was not to last.

I felt human for just long enough to get a glass of Gatorade (which I was smart enough to pick up at the store yesterday for Katie, just in case) and a couple piece of toast.  I also threw in a banana, because my mom always told me about the potassium in bananas.  And while I was lucky enough to keep it all down, within about 20 more minutes, I was huddled back in bed, praying for the pain to end.

I'm not sure what happened in the next few hours.  I know that Patrick complained about being tired and he slept.  And fortunately, the kids all managed to survive.  I had Connor make pasta for dinner, while I laid in bed, awaiting the next interruption from Ryan complaining about 'Allen did ... (something)'. 

Around 9:30, I was woken up by Patrick asking me how to work the dishwasher.  I think I was stunned for a few seconds, then tried my best to explain (you hit the 'autoclean', then the 'start' button).  Granted, I don't think he's used the dishwasher in the 4 months since we've been here.  But still, that's just not right.

I received a call from Patrick's mom, asking how I was holding up. It turns out that about 70% of the 30+ people at Christmas dinner came down with the stomach flu. Amazingly, Ryan is just fine (as are both Connor and Allen).  Ahh, the Christmas gift that just keeps on giving.