Fleeing the flu

There's nothing like a little projectile vomit to shake things up a bit. Since it is now Thursday, that means I've been dealing with sick for four days now.

Noah decided on Monday on the way home from his soon-to-be-former sitter's house that it was a good time to expunge the contents of his belly all over himself, the car seat, the floor, you name it. Needless to say, it was not pretty, and the smell was enough to make me toss my cookies too.

Where Monday was rough, Tuesday was nothing. All was well. But Wednesday the flu was back. My poor little guy cried for two hours straight, literally running back and forth between David and I trying to figure out which one of us had the super power to calm his belly. Ultimately, he decided it was me, even though he was so upset he couldn't sit still long enough to get calm.

I could absolutely relate to that feeling—the one where you know you're going to chunder and there's nothing you can do about it. You just hope it's all over soon.

Anyway, we finally were able to get him to bed for good around midnight, but then I woke up wide awake at 6 thinking, "oh no, now I've got the dang stomach flu."

That brings us to Thursday. I've lived in and out of the bathroom today while my sick—but oblivious—toddler ran circles around me. He watched approximately 8 hours too many of TV, and he discovered all sorts of pointy objects I would have ripped out of his hands in a heartbeat before. I was not Mother of the Year today; instead, I was sick. And apparently so is Noah, if you count the loss of his dinner on our living room floor tonight. Oh boy.

I am grateful that we're sick this week and not next, when we're supposed to be merry and bright and all that good stuff. But now I'm way behind. I have Christmas cards to print and mail; I have dozens of cookies to bake; I have presents to buy and wrap; I have Christmas dinner to plan and purchase; and the list goes on.

So if you've been wondering where I've been all week, I can answer you with all honesty: the bathroom. Jealous, aren't you?