1. Get a stomach flu virus, mysteriously, because no one near you has been infected similarly.
2. Take no sustenance whatsoever for 32 hours, except possibly the three total ounces of Gatorade which you managed to keep down, out of about 12 ounces attempted.
So, yeah. Does anybody remember that commercial where the mom is sick and in bed, and the dad is like, ironing his shirt in the living room, leaving big, black, triangle shaped burn marks on the shirt, while the dog eats off the breakfast table and the kids are playing videogames while the school bus honks outside the open front door? I think it was a Dayquil commercial.
So, maybe its not quite that bad at my house. But both boys were loudly unhappy to discover that daddy did not cut their sandwiches in the preferred four triangle method when preparing their lunches. Actually he did not cut the sandwiches at all, which is a problem because neither of my children eat bread crusts, and in fact Drew would like to know how the hell you break into a sandwich that hasn't been cut in at least half? This dismay was possibly neutralized by the fact that daddy put green Doritos into their lunches, something we consider a treat in our house, not typical lunchroom fare. All in all he did pretty good, everyone was dressed in appropriate clothing and even matching socks, which is a feat even for me. And he did come home early from work when it became apparent I would not be capable of loading myself into the car to do any picking up at school, or delivering to karate, or even feeding anyone dinner. I couldn't even hold a coherent sentence together, much less stand up. I did manage to take over for an hour and a half in the evening, however, by putting "Wallace & Gromit's The Curse of the Were-Rabbit" into the DVD player in my bedroom, and letting the boys lay in my bed and watch while Trip took a conference call. So, not completely worthless.
I am not sure my friend whom I called in a panic to please take Drew with her son to karate would believe that, however, since she came to the door and I never answered it, so she went on to take her son to class. Then when I realized that something had gone wrong, and loaded up Drew and drove him down there, dizzy and incapable of completing a thought, I asked her if maybe she had gone to the wrong house, or something? Because I never heard the doorbell? And I don't understand? And Drew said "Oh, I heard the doorbell. But I was watching Spongebob," and she just laughed at me.
But alas, the world does not stop for sickmommy. This morning I managed to get dressed, put on a ballcap and flipflops and go to the grocery store, because we have no food. And while I was preparing my list while sitting at the kitchen table this morning, Trip says to me, "Get some dinner stuff - you know, like Manwich or something."
I'm sorry, did you say Manwich? WTF?
Let me first point out that Manwich is not something we eat regularly in this house. In fact, not really ever. I cannot imagine that either of my children would have anything to do with sloppy joes, since Drew doesn't eat sauce of any kind and Will doesn't exactly try new foods.
Secondly, I almost laid down on the kitchen floor and wretched when he said it, because HELLO! I have the stomach flu! Could we please not bring forth such imagery at this time? And so randomly?
An odd side effect of this illness has apparently been that my sense of smell is in overdrive, kind of like when I was pregnant (and no, I am not that). While at the store, walking down the International Food Aisle (translation: spaghetti sauce, taco shells and peanut oil) I nearly died as I was overwhelmed by the smell of powdered taco packets, I actually had to hold my nose and hurry out of there. Then, this afternoon, while I was out in the garage, I smelled smoke, and after 10 minutes of wandering all around the outside of my house and up and down the sidewalk sniffing the air like a lunatic, I discovered it was coming from a neighbor, three houses down, who was entertaining and had some sort of chiminea thing going.
So, I guess the point here is that a virus might nearly kill me, but apparently my ever more frequent "Mommy moments" are still on track.