I’VE MISSED YOU. SO MUCH. no really.
I have spent the last 2 weeks or however long time passes these days, covered in vomit, diarrhea and sweat. And for once, it’s not out of the body of a child. It’s my own.
I wake up in the middle of the night.
Me: B, I’m sick.
B: What’s wrong.
Me: I just told you.
B: Ok. (goes back to sleep)
And I silently die. Ok not silently. I groan extra loud. Whenever I am sick I feel like I need to sleep with my head on the opposite side of the bed. It’s like a proclamation to the world that THINGS ARE ALL WRONG. And oh yeah, I need to wake up to feed Ruby, like all the time.
My first thought is that I totally F’d myself with my diet. I took it too far and my body is shutting down. It will say on my grave “WE TOLD YOU TO EAT, YOU ASSHOLE”. But really, I’m thinking I’m having a hypoglycemic episode since cutting back sugars. So I don’t panic.
Morning comes. Every muscle in my body is on fire. Like that Alicia Keys song. I’m pretty sure that’s what she is singing about.
I know that if I stand up I will black out. B has to go to work. I have to take care of 2 kids ?! When you are a mom and you need to “call out”, you are bombdiggerbomb screwed. Because there is no sub. And your husband looks at you like, I HAVE TO GO NOW. OK BYE?? And then you cry.
So B took one for the team and I stayed in my soft bed (grave) and rested (decomposed). Then I puked. I puked every hour on the hour. I puked water, ice, air with extra dust in it. Then I pooped. I pooped fire poop. At this point I realized that this was no sugar detox. This was something bigger.
Do you noro about norovirus? It’s noro joke. Except for those jokes. I’ve been working on them for a week. You catch it from poop food or crowded places. Listen, let’s be honest, I eat poop no less than 2 times a day and so does every other mom in this world. Not on purpose. But it happens. So there.
It took me 48 hours of Full House reruns to feel like I could even move my legs. I did learn though that Uncle Jesse’s twins won’t socialize with others and that’s a problem (this was the description of the episode).
THAT’S A PROBLEM JESSE? REALLY? LET’S TALK ABOUT YOUR ASS EXPLODING WHILE YOU VOMIT UP LAST NIGHT’S CHILE THAT WASN’T EVEN THAT GOOD AND MUCH WORSE COMING UP. SO YEAH, LET’S TALK PROBLEMS.
It took 3 days of energy to scream that at the tv. 70% worth it.
Now I am “better”. However my milk supply is way down low low low. I’ve always had glorious fountains of milk and now I’m a desert. I’m doing all the tricks I know to get it back up, but Ruby is not so happy with this development.
And when I was better, do you know what the first thing I did was? Try on the 349 pairs of jeans that arrived while I was sick (that arrived when B was home OF COURSE). I have so much jean knowledge to impart to you guys soon.
I wish I could write more and more often. I have lots to tell you all, all the time. Like all about G’s every20minutesIneedtothrowatantrum syndrome. But it’s looking like I get maybe an hour a week to do this for now.
Love and lust,