2017 came in with a vengeance, for me at least. New Years Eve day started out with my three-year-old up chucking his applesauce then spiking a fever for most of the afternoon. While the older two kids were on their way to my in-laws, it was touch and go whether the baby would be staying home and changing our NYE plans or going to my mom’s for the night. Thankfully with some Advil and Gravol, he perked up enough to be sent there for the night.
As my husband and I prepared to go to our friend’s place for the evening, I had a fleeting thought of “What if I’m the next one to get hit with the stomach flu?” I forgot to mention that my eldest got hit with the stomach bug two days before.
The evening started out great. We brought all the fixings for a cheese fondue and it turned out great but shortly after starting to eat I felt the distinct uncomfortable rumblings in my lower stomach that signaled something wasn’t right. Sure enough, an hour before midnight I was hugging the porcelain god and wishing I were dead. The stomach virus that gently hit my children assaulted me with a vengeance. Minutes after midnight I was lying in an upstairs spare bedroom shivering with chills. So much for my new year’s eve plans.
Why is it that the holidays bring on such horrible illnesses? This is the second year in a row that my family has been plagued with a stomach virus over the holidays. I myself have had more of these bouts of illness in the last 5 years than I can remember for most of my life. Is it the kids? Are they the germ factories?
It’s downright awful.
Even after spending almost the entire day in bed yesterday and sleeping close to 14 hours I am still not 100% today and feel like I could be on the verge of intimacy with the porcelain gods again. As I write this I’m lying in bed with three children arguing for my attention.
Time to sign off …