Wow. I just spent the last few days holed up in my house with a two and a half year old vomiting and, well... it was coming out the other end too. Clare was so generous that she thought to give me her gift of disease as well.
I do not have the words to describe what a good old stomach virus will do to a family. I won't share much beyond the basics. It was bad, very very bad. The smell of the past few days won't leave my nostrils. I, once again, thought I was dying (won't I be disappointed when I find that dying doesn't hurt as much as three days of yacking?) We're both crazy with cabin fever. Husband is ready to throw us both away. The child is now well. I am now well. I am still married (it's a miracle. I am an ungrateful, resentful sick person)
Holy Moses. I can take most anything, but these stomach viruses that she's bringing home are killing me (allow me my mellow drama, please. I mean I laid on the couch for so long that my arse literally hurt from laying on the couch so long, oh, and so help me if I have to watch one more cartoon or cartoon movie I will turn inside out - spontaneously).
The best part of all of this? You know there is always a best part. Clare looks at me last night, when she's bouncing up and down on my lifeless body in flames from fever, and smiles. When I tell her I love her, her nose crinkles up and she says to me, "Mommy breath stinks." Then she shakes her head up and down as if agreeing with herself. She and I had a huge laugh about that.
P.S. I have revisited this post a day later and that little girl agreeing with herself about my bad breath was absolutely priceless. I wish I could video that moment. I hope my mind lets me keep this one as I grow older.