Being that I haven’t been able to hold my head up for more than a few minutes all day, I have to make this short, but I have a point to make so bear with me.
I’ve mentioned in previous blogs the history that the stomach flu has in this family; usually EVERYONE gets it, with me getting it early on and the worst out of everyone.
This time around I watched it knock everyone in the house down except me and braced myself for impact. I even took quite a bit of pleasure in seeing Thomas miserable, considering the last time I puked for 15 hours straight and he walked away with a tummy ache. I didn’t full out laugh at him, but I suppose you could say it was nice to see someone else suffering for once, even if I knew in the back of my mind that it was only a matter of time until I would be the one hunched over the toilet and praying for mercy.
Nearly two days out and I was still feeling relatively normal and puke free. Everyone else had “dried up” so to speak, so I started to think “Wow, maybe I really am in the clear this time! GO ME!”
Mentally, I did a happy dance… but let me tell you, I should not have been so unassuming. Here I thought Karma had FINALLY cut me a break, let me have one year puke-free because of all the previous years I got smacked with the voms the worst… but my celebrating pissed her off. Karma is like Santa Clause; while you can earn a place on the Nice List, ONE WRONG MOVE and you’ve gone and fucked yourself onto the naughty list (and that came out dirtier than i’d intended.) And that, my friends, is exactly what I did.
Last night around 10:30pm I started feeling….wrong. The kind of wrong where you know there is something coming through the pipes but you aren’t sure which way it’s going to go.
I decided the best idea would be to put myself to bed early; maybe I could sleep the feeling off. Maybe I was stressing myself into feeling sick (kind of like a hysterical pregnancy.. this could be a hysterical stomach flu).
Well, wouldn’t you know it, after a few hours of very restless sleep, my eyes shot open. That oh-so-familiar “I have to puke. LIKE NOW” feeling washed over me and I made a mad dash for the bathroom.
Without going into too many graphic details, let me just tell you how Karma decided to pay me back:
I puked so hard, so violently, that I peed my pants. That’s right… totally soaked in my own pee, while puking into the toilet.
Even worse? I had to call for help. From Thomas. To go and get me a change of clothes, and he of course insisted to know why.
It’s embarrassing enough to have people hearing you retching like a dying animal, but then to have to explain that you also wet your pants like a scared kindergartner? Humiliating.
Spent the entire night puking, not sleeping, and the entire day with a face-melting headache and trying to avoid even the mention of food. I’m not sure i’ll ever eat pizza again.
And the last bit of punishment Karma is throwing my way? My house is a COMPLETE FUCKING WRECK. Thomas stayed home to watch the kids while I attempted to shake this bug… but they seem to have gotten the best of him; and guess who is left to clean up the mess tomorrow?
Karma’s a bitch y’all, don’t ever forget that.
Now i’m gonna go take my sick ass and lay back down and pray she relents soon.
Please stop Complimenting my kids’ “Good” Behavior goo.gl/fb/rwfojS
Hard pass from me pic.twitter.com/VayvW1eopK
I've gotten to the point where I'd let my kids summon a demon with a Ouija board before I'd let them play Monopoly together again.
Parenthood is when you start counting the minutes to bed time before 11am.
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