If it's January, then we are sick. It's like all those pesky little germs hiding under the surface burrow their way into our lives the minute the calendar reads January 1st. January sucks the lifeblood right out of me.
It started with Aidan and a nice bout of a stomach bug. Deep down, I know, I KNOW that the invasion of one child with a stomach virus pretty much guarantees the whole family will be vomiting in the upcoming days. But I like to delude myself into believing I have some power over the situation. I scrub. I clean. I disinfect. I wash my hands with soap and hot water until they crack under the pressure. We can keep that bug at bay if only I arm myself with enough Lysol wipes and elbow grease to fight the good fight.
I should know better.
The stomach bug spread to me, announcing its impromptu arrival Saturday night as we finished up dessert at a lovely date night out with our good friends Dan and Kristy. I had to beg Chris to get the check NOW and run outside of the restaurant in fear I would become quite the public spectacle. I am a great Saturday night date. People are lining up to book us for a couples' night out.
Chris didn't feel great on Sunday. Griffin got a fever and threw up on Tuesday. And last night, the stomach bug got to our last hold out, Brennan.
Bleary eyed on two hours (maybe) of sleep, Chris tried to remain upbeat this morning. He turned to me as I contemplated the possibilities of injecting caffeine right into my veins and said, "Well, on the plus side, we must be all done with the flu now, right?"
We better be. We damn well better be.
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