My husband is a far stronger person than I. That's what I choose to believe instead of that he's just more lucky than I. Sam brought home "the throw-ups," and as Darwin requires, we all get to share in the joy. Sam spent Friday night and Saturday puking. He was over the worst of it by Sunday and we even enjoyed some time outdoors on Sunday afternoon when it became apparent that the Steelers were going to beat Steve's beloved Broncos. We were inside for a total of two hours when I started to feel "not right."
Round about the time the San Andreas nuclear reactor was about to meltdown on West Wing...so was I. Fifteen hours of stunning digestive pyrotechnics later (I love 10 Things I Hate About You) I was ready to curl up and die. Unfortunately, the alien living in my abdomen didn't feel that sleep was necessary. So I stumbled to the kitchen for a popsicle, lovingly purchased for me by my husband this morning shortly after the grocery store opened (he went to work late so that he could be sure I had everything I needed...namely enough toilet paper to support my three roll a day habit). As I was opening the freezer, the kitchen door opens and in skips Sam, healthy as a horse. He was followed closely by a trudging Steve, looking a bit green around the edges.
But here's where we get to that stronger thing. He hasn't puked once! Not one single time! I spent 15 hours sitting on the toilet with my head in a bucket, utilizing the emergency exits on both ends of my body...and he gets over it all by just sleeping it off. Now, it probably helped that he hadn't eaten anything when he started to feel "not right" (where I had eaten a French Dip sub...which I will not be eating again anytime soon). But come on! Not that I wish him ill...but can't I catch a break here? What IS his secret? Once he's conscious again, I may have to interrogate it out of him.
Good news is, Sam is completely normal so I'm hoping this only lasts a maximum of 48 hours.
And I just have to share why I love Sam's daycare. They heard he was sick over the weekend and the director made him some special chicken soup for lunch. How do I convince them to come here and take care of me and Steve?