So do y’all know what’s a bit worse than waking up at 5:00 in the morning with a howling newborn, who is busy shouting, “SOME WARM MILK WOULD HIT THE SPOT ABOUT NOW” at your sleep-deprived soul?
Waking up to feed the little peanut and deciding that… you know what? Your own stomach feels a titch off on this day where you have LOST EVEN ONE MORE HOUR OF SLEEP BECAUSE OF THE BLASTED TIME CHANGE.
And by a titch off, I mean HOLD THE REIGNS, NELLY! MAMA IS BOLTING OFF THE WAGON TO THROW HER HEAD OVER THE TOILET!
Apparently I woke up at the crack of ugly yesterday with the stomach flu, but I have proved to myself that I am a survivor. Only hours before, I had told Hubs, “You know, I am so exhausted from having a tiny baby in the house, that I’m afraid I’ll catch a cold and simply die, because my body doesn’t have enough sleep stored up inside of it to heal itself.”
And then I caught the Stomach Flu ’12, which happens to be the same strain of virus that was in the Black Death that broke out across Europe in the mid-1300s. And y’all? Yesterday was very possibly the sickest I have been during my adult life. The good thing is that I no longer need to contemplate one of the detoxifying cleanses that is all the rage these days, because nature plum took care o’ that for me and saved me many dollars.
Hubs simply shut the door to our bedroom and locked me inside, because any flu that involves discharging fluids from the body at the rate of gunfire scares Hubs silly. He boldly announced that he was thinking of the little peanut’s safety, because WOULD I WANT HIM TO CATCH THIS EVIL ILLNESS WHEN HE WEIGHS A WHOPPING SIX POUNDS TODAY? Really, I know that Hubs was doing it to protect his own stomach, so that he wouldn’t have to hear mine unloading in the master bathroom.
1 PUKING PERSON + HUBS = 2 PUKING PEOPLE
We call what Hubs does the Sympathy Puke. He feels awful whenever he hears someone else throwing up, so he joins them.
After eighteen hours (EIGHTEEN FULL HOURS!!) spent running back and forth between our bed and the potty and sipping 7-Up slowly and battling a fever, I am happy to report that I am officially back to normal.
However you define normal these days.
And life is still very good here, because the itty bitty peanut is bringing us great joy, even though he loves to open his eyes wide at 2:00 in the morning and talk to us and make happy noises instead of sleeping. Yes, EVEN THOUGH!
We love that little peanut. We love him like a bucket of big crazy!
(And also? Apparently my kitchen sink is a wee bit dirty.)
Our little peanut is not overly crazy about bath time, because he has decided that it’s actually a legalized way for his parents to kill him, so he simply screams. Two nights ago, we had exactly 18 seconds of silence, where he felt the warm water, and we knew that he was thinking, “You know what? This might be sort of nice after all!” So I grabbed my camera, and this is the shot that we’ll use to prove to him that THERE WAS ONE EVENING IN YOUR LIFE WHEN WE HAD EIGHTEEN ENTIRE SECONDS OF A PEACEFUL BATH!
Because nineteen seconds into it, he was alerting the neighbors to call the Department of Family Services for him.
At any rate, it’s after 9:00 here in Small Town, USA and I know that I’m going to be up and out of bed, warming a bottle in precisely 90 minutes. So I’d better get some sleep while I can.
Happy Monday night, y’all.