Wanna know what really got me started on this blog thing? (yeah I'm sure you're fascinated!) Well it was the events of the last couple days and the realization that what's gone on this week, as busy as it's been, is pretty typical for my life. Now, to most, it's probably stupid boring family stories. The kind of crap that only I'll find funny. But what the hell, I figured I should right about it anyway.
At 4pm Tuesday, as I sit at my computer trying to work, I got sick. That's right, straight up 4 o'clock. It was the strangest thing. A friend told me once that that's how you can tell if you have the flu or just a cold. If it creeps up on you over time where you start feeling icky and it just gets worse and worse, then it's a cold. But if it hit you BAM! like a ton of bricks so hard that it causes you to check the time, then it's the flu.
So down I was, with the flu. That's not the funny part, just in case you couldn't tell.
Well this part isn't funny either. After my day in bed. A day that consisted only of popping mexican antibiotics and tylenol like they were pez candies and switching from my left to my right side in bed. I woke to find I'd given the flu to my son. My cute 6 year old boy who's hardly ever sick so he doesn't really know how it all works and why is throat and head hurts.
Poor little boy, he's so damn cute....and so dramatic. Day one of his flu went the same as mine. Although I didn't make him take the smuggled-into-the-country-by-my-husband's coworker Antibiotics, I actually took him to the doctor for the legal stuff. And I didn't double up the dose for him like I did for me. So his recovery would likely be longer.
Well the action started that night. His fever was pretty high and he woke me up SCREAMING that his tummy hurt and that he thought he was going to throw up.
It was quite a sight. I shot up in bed to a child holding his tummy yelling "MOMMY MOMMY I'M GOING TO THROW UP" Pathetic that I think this is funny. So I tell him not to stand there and hurry him into the bathroom. He's a mess. Bless his heart, he's only thrown up one other time and it was when he was like 3 and strapped into his carseat (that's a mess I won't go into) so he just didn't really know what to do.
But I herd him into the bathroom and tell him to get on the floor. He motions like he's going to aim for the floor. I correct him, aiming his head over the toilet. (I didn't realize that one needed to 'learn' the proper throwing-up technique). So he finally tosses his cookies, not a lot, just like phlem. Then he does again. Poor guy. He's on his knees on the bathroom floor with glorified dry heeves. He's crying and in pain and I'm standng behind him trying to comfort him. He pushes my hand off his back, barking at me to "stop touching him!"
And then, after about the 4th heeve ho, he looks up at me through the mirror - still on his knees with his hands on each side of the bowl - and yells at me in this half screech/half whine tone, "HOW LONG IS THIS GOING TO TAKE?!?!?"
I feel terribly about it, but I kid you not, it was the funniest thing a sick 6 year old boy could ever say. He's still a little sick, but no longer tossing his cookies. I've given him free reign of the thermometer so I'm getting hourly readings of his temp. Right now, it's 99.1F.