bagels · sick kids

This isn’t a post about Glee or Yoga…

Like it was suppose to be.  I just don’t have it in me to organize my thoughts about last weeks episode or download photos Brian took while I was in downward facing dog.  I am up to my eyeballs in laundry and up to my elbows in fecal matter and vomit.  I’m sorry but it’s true.

Brian left this weekend for a youth conference.  I stayed home with the children because that is what mothers are suppose to do.  Last year when Brian was at this conference Hunter got sick in the night and I had to deal with it all by myself.  This year Conner got sick in the night and the only help I got was a dog trotting along beside me to keep me company (thanks Ranger). The second night when Conner threw up again Ranger just lay on the couch and watched me walk by a million times.  Conner is teething really bad so I figured since he was only sick at night it was too much mucus and I could deal with two nights of little sleep.

Then today Hunter got it, or something, and while failing to get his pants totally down in time (thanks Brian for putting the kid in blue jeans could you not see enough into the future to let him go pantless?) pooed all over the bathroom and I mean all over.  Try not to imagine it and sorry.  Then after lunch he unsuccessfully tried to vomit in the toilet but didn’t really make it…

Did I mention I had just mopped and cleaned every thing including the bathroom rug? By this time my emotions are a bit on the frayed side.  So Brian brings me some pull-ups on his lunch break which was really nice of him except it just made me mad.  Seriously, I haven’t left the house since Friday and he just breezes in with pull-ups and no lunch (again, hello how are you not reading my mind husband?) and leaves again.  Which isn’t exactly true, he kept asking how he could help but that just wasn’t helping (I know, I feel bad).  I usually don’t torture my husband with things like that (I give him a count down to our anniversary and my birthday so he won’t forget).  But, today I just wanted him to think to switch the laundry and take the afternoon off and magically make the children well and tell me what to eat… That’s when I thought “Oh I haven’t eaten yet today at all and it’s one o’clock.”

You should know I’m pretty nice unless I get really hungry then I stop functioning.  My body prevents this from happening by pretty much telling me that I’m hungry every few hours.  Except today it didn’t (maybe the lovely smells in the bathroom and the piles of laundry had something to do with it) so I tortured my husband and felt bad for myself and cried.  Then I ate a bagel and felt a little better. Then I dipped peanut butter cookies in tea (because I love dipping cookies in milk, it’s almost my favorite thing, but I can’t drink milk) which tastes a little weird then I sent my husband a message saying that I love him and ate a bagel and felt better, just so he would know it’s safe to come home… I think.

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