I don't know where they picked it up. I don't know how they're passing it around. I can't even predict when it's going to end.
It's the stomach bug that won't die.
Our family, starting with my oldest, have each been somehow affected by it for more than a week now. It's slow to start, sometimes not really causing more than a lead-ball feeling in your stomach and some mysterious gurgles. Sometimes it sends you straight to the toilet. And back again. And again. And again. Or sometimes, you just get that bad feeling and you know it's coming on and you grab the nearest trashcan or pick the kid up and cover her mouth as you run to the toilet in hopes of making it there in time.
We really don't know where it came from. I thought my oldest had contracted food poisoning when she first came down with it. But within three days, the youngest was in our room at 3am, and puking by 5am. And here we are, a week later, and my middle daughter has finally succumbed.
Luckily, Brian and I have not suffered more than some mild cramping and nausea. So far.
Tomorrow is our big Yard Sale. We need to unload some crap to fund a possible birthday party/cookout for Brian's upcoming 34th. I simply cannot pray hard enough that I can make it through at least one more day without contracting this barfing malady.
Our Water Salesgirl is down for the count. She had grand plans to sit with her cooler and her mini cash register, and hawk some ice cold bottled waters for $.50 each. We promised her she could keep her profits. Unfortunately, this thing does not let go after just one day. It knocks you out for a good 2-4 days, at least. So, alas, the adorable Salesgirl will be hovering over her trashcan puke-bucket, and watching her second full day of the Disney Chanels greatest summer reruns instead of pocketing some extra cash. Sorry, honey!
One more day, you crap-tastic Bug! Leave me out of it! I've been washing my hands like a germaphobe with OCD. I've done the laundry promptly after each sweaty, feverish child has felt well enough to roll off of her back and back to an upright position. I've invested in some anti-bacterial spray to coat all the commonly used surfaces in a fine mist. I've used the power of positive thought and crossed my fingers as I chugged the Pepto Bismol, and hoped for the best.
Nobody wants to be sick. Especially not me. I just need one more day. Or, better yet, let my luck hold out, and my stomach to armor up like the Batmobile (in the Christian Bale version, not those cartoony 1990's flicks) and protect me from coming down with this at all.
I will not get sick. I will not get sick. I will not get sick. (positive thoughts).
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