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I wonder if I could sell stomach flu to Hollywood starlets as the hottest new diet? "One injection of SuperFlu and you'll lose six pounds in two days -- guaranteed! A great way to get into red carpet shape for that Oscars appearance!"
Of course, after those two days, you will look like you've been chewed on by rats. And you may not be capable of actually standing on that red carpet. But goodbye unwanted pounds...
Some might question my own sanity in that one of the first things I did after managing to stand up was weigh myself, but there has to be an upside, right?
Both of my babies have had this nasty virus, I've had it, and now Dave has it. Of course, Dave -- in typical man fashion -- was planning to go into the office, even after I told him, "No one wants your germs. Their children don't want your germs. No one wants their children to get your germs so STAY HOME."
Ultimately, though, it was not my advice but the fact that he was incapable of seeing out of both eyes at the same time that sent him to bed.
Luckily, we didn't both get it at the same time. The one thing no one ever really tells you about parenthood -- or maybe they do and childless people just don't listen -- is that there are no days off. NO. DAYS. OFF.
Sick? 104-degree fever and barfing up a lung? Your children don't care. Fish sticks still have to be cooked. Diapers still have to be changed. Babies still have to have bottles warmed at 1 a.m. and 4 a.m. Children still have to go to school in clean, matching clothes. Or at least clean clothes. When Daddy dresses them, "matching" is interpreted very loosely.
But Dave was a superstar this week. I actually got a sick day to lie in bed and groan softly to myself, between rushed trips to the bathroom, while he fed, diapered, entertained, and generally Daddied both kids.
Of course, when I ultimately emerged from my fevered haze, it was to the sound of screaming. As I came down the stairs, Billy was running around the living room in his Pullups screaming "It's wet! It's wet!" (no idea what that's about) while Willow, also screaming, was holding her empty bottle by the nipple and beating it on the coffee table. (You don't need friggin' Baby Signs to interpret that message.)
Poor Dave looked up at me with such a look of weary relief that I fell in love with him all over again. It's nice to be missed.
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Kitchen Countertops
Friday March 04 2011 02:43:27 am
Kitchen Countertops
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