this is a page for

Browsing Tag: stomach flu

Well, This Looks Familiar

I don’t even know how to describe this weekend, except to keep it as short and sweet as I can (HARD. so hard. Long-winded, I am). And especially after my last description of household illness, if I describe anything else to you that’s remotely like that, you’re going to unfollow me as quickly as I can say “grab the bucket!” And yet. My life. Friday, we had a two-hour delay for the girls’ school, which means that I was set to make six trips back and forth for drop-off and pick-up in the space of six hours. I thought that was going to be the toughest part of the day (oh, the universe loves “perspective,” doesn’t it?), except… Hives. Cian woke up with a single hive under his chin. By 8:30, I noticed them on his hands. By 9 they were popping up on his ears, and by 10 o’clock they covered his entire body. At lunchtime I was on the phone with the doctor, and by 2:30 we were in the car to the office. Bad allergic…

But It Definitely Wasn’t So Good

It wasn’t the worst day ever–I would never say that, because on the spectrum of bad days, this one ranks pretty low–but it wasn’t exactly one that we’d like to repeat again anytime soon. I mean. Ever. David was due back in from Connecticut late Thursday night. I worried about him driving–the temperatures were hovering in the single digits, and there was a continuous, fierce wind blowing that was making those temperatures feel like something more in the negative 20s. It was cold in our house–I had the thermostat set at 74, the gas fireplace roaring, and yet we shivered. I checked the thermostat–still 74, it read, though it certainly didn’t feel like t-shirt weather within the four walls of our new-to-us home. I told the kids we were going to skip their baths and showers that night–the bathroom was too cold, and I figured I’d have time in the morning to do it since their school was already on a delay. I tucked the kids into bed. I shivered. I could hear the gas…

That’s Just the Stomach Virus Talking

David picked up sushi for dinner the other night. It was Sunday, and the end of a particularly grumpy weekend. Most of the house was sick, with Cian and I warily eyeing everybody else, telepathically trying to ward off the germs, wondering if quarantine in a nearby hotel (with a pool, and a spa, and babysitting services) should be in order. David slept more in one day than I think he’s slept in the last five years. I was scrubbing preschooler barf out of our bedroom carpet. The washing machine wept from overuse.  You get the idea. And since nobody was cooking, we brought food in. Because what else does a person crave after he comes out the other side (BWAHAHA) of a stomach bug? Why, raw fish, of course! You may have your Sunday roasts, with carrots and potatoes in the slow cooker, or you–yeah,  you over there–were contentedly standing over your grill that evening, flipping burgers with one hand while drinking some cold beer from a can with the other. But we? Over in the “vintage” split-level across the street from the new subdivision? We’re bringing home…