Because we’re a family that loves each other very much, we have decided to share the stomach flu with each other over the past several days.
It started with me having a thought a few weeks ago: I’ve never had our bedspread cleaned. I wonder if I could take it someplace to have it done.
The Universe was ready with an answer. Max puked all over it last Tuesday night. And, amazingly enough, I found a place to have it cleaned. Thanks, Universe.
At first I thought Max was puking because of all the Skittles, M&Ms, Beef Jerky and Ice Cream he ate the night before. (Before you call Child Services, please know that I don’t normally feed him all of that in one evening. I usually limit him to only three of the four.)
And when I woke up in the middle of the night Sunday and spent the rest of the night hugging the porcelain throne, I figured that it was just because my stomach has eaten fourteen holes in itself because of one terrifying thought: We are moving in two months and we have not sold our house.
However, when Christian fell victim to it this morning—nudging me gently at my bedside to inform me in a perfectly pleasant voice that he had just puked three times—I knew that we were dealing with a real, live stomach bug. I’m real smart that way.
Thankfully, I’m feeling better. Just in time to take care of everybody else. Ryan (figuring it was better late than never to share in the festivities) started regretting the dinner he ate tonight and is already in bed. Max has recovered fully, and Christian has successfully consumed some chicken noodle soup.
I love sharing! Sharing is the best! Just think of all the fun we’ve had together as a family over the past week! Puking! Moaning! Wishing for death!
But you know what? Lying in bed all day gave me time to think up a new question for the Universe: Is there anybody out there to buy my house?
I’ll just sit back here and wait for the answer…