Trying Not To Be Chair Shaped #11

We got sick sick this week in my household. That dreaded, 48-hour, satan setting off dynamite in your guts bug.

It began with the seven-year-old. I found myself scrubbing puke out of the carpets at 4 am, holding back her hair, and rubbing her back over the toilet.

Did her vomiting put me off eating? Yes.

Did I also feel increasingly sick as the following day wore on? Also yes.

I’ve always prided myself on having a strong stomach against this kind of virus, it’s been about ten years since the last bout. But this time, it got me.

2 am the following night I slithered out of bed and flopped down next to the toilet for the rest of the night. I was very sad about the whole thing. When my alarm went off, I managed to drag myself upright, organise my twelve-year-olds school uniform, and kick him out of bed. That was about all the real parenting I managed that day, in all honesty.

The younger two stayed home with me, my daughter was feeling better so she was able to fetch food for her and the three-year-old while I lay semi-comatose on the sofa all day.

Around 2 pm, I got myself upright and slung any contaminated items in the washing machine, picked up, and loaded the dishwasher, then flopped back down again to watch Frozen with the small people.

The boys suffered the same fate in the days that followed.

I went about three days without really eating. I looked in the mirror on day three and grimaced. You’d think after all that suffering I might have suddenly lost a ton of weight. Unfortunately, there was no benefit to getting sick.

Alas, I am still Chair Shaped.

But thankfully, everyone is feeling better.

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