I have been cleaning my house like a mad woman.
A weak, still sort of sick, mad woman, but mad all the same.
I've been sick and there is nothing worse than Mommy being sick. The world does not stop. The mess piles up. The kids apparently still think it's important that they eat, that I find their missing legos, that I pick them up when they fall down, that they tell me about when one has taken a longer turn with the Wii, that I clean off their poop....why, oh why am I in charge of all the poop?
These kids are without perspective.
My headache from Sunday carried over to Monday and turned into a massive stomach problem.
It really sucked.
First Stella barfed all over her car seat on the way home from dropping Cole at school. While trying to clean it up, I decided my headache and nausea were not going to go away and had to make a mad dash for the toilet.
I texted Alex for help.
I spent the next few hours lying on the floor and watching Stella play. She would periodically bring me a squeezable applesauce or a bag of cheddar bunnies which I would open and hand off to her. She could have brought me a bottle of Jack Daniels and I probably would have poured it in to a sippy cup for her... I was wrecked.
I would lie down in different parts of the house and try to contort my body so that my head and my stomach could find a moment of peace. Unfortunately these different positions only exposed me to all the dirt and nastiness hiding in different parts of my house. Apparently there is good reason why stomach bugs are wrecking my family.
I found two cups of rotting milk, a banana mashed into a toy train, and a pile of dust that flew off different arms of the fan whenever it turned.
We are a disgusting family. Now I felt terribly ill, and horribly inadequate as a housekeeper.
I texted Alex for help. No answer.
At one point I was lying on the floor watching Stella roam around the backyard by herself. Despite puking, she was totally unphased by being sick. She just continued about her day. What a bitch. Why wasn't I that strong?
I looked at the clock around 11 and decided it would be fine to throw her in her crib. I usually read her a story or two, cuddle, and sing her a song before putting her down to bed or her nap. That was not happening though. I basically mustered enough energy to trap her and lift her into her crib, threw in a few books and shut the door.
She didn't make a peep. Totally redeemed herself.
I text Alex for help. No answer.
I called Alex for help. No answer.
Around 12:30 I realized I probably wouldn't be able to drive to get Cole since I couldn't walk for more than 10 minutes without throwing up. He had to be picked up by 2 and I was probably going to die before that.
I tired to take some pain medication for my head and was promptly punished for the intake of two sips of water by having to rush to the toilet, again.
I called Alex for help. No answer.
I honestly didn't know what I was going to do. I didn't want to bring anyone else into this horror of vomit and pain, but I felt desperate. Since I couldn't get in touch with my husband, I called my neighbor Sue.
Oh Sue. She came through. Did she ever come through. Sue should be sainted.
She picked up Cole. When she brought him home, she cleaned Stella's puked on car seat and washed her vomit clothes piled in the garage. She cleaned my kitchen which was a disaster from me trying to survive the morning. She took out our over flowing trash. She watched Stella and Cole and then went to get Aiden from the bus stop. Then she stayed!
She's nuts. But I love her and I probably would have died if she hadn't helped me out. I wonder if Alex would have come to my funeral? He wouldn't answer any of my calls and texts. Maybe he'd cut me out?
I texted and called to check the status of my marriage.
Sue continued to take care of all of us as I contemplated what it would be like to just merge my family with Sue's. Would it be weird? Would she continue to do all the work if I just pretended to be sick after I got well? Would I ever get well? What if Alex decided to leave me because I was so weak that I was getting sick for the second time this year? Why is everything so fuzzy?
I finally got a hold of Alex and told him he had to be home by 5, or we were through, or I was through, or something like that.
I'm very calm and rationale on my death bed.
He conceded. He arrived home 15 minutes after Sue left and immediately took charge.
(Turns out he likes being married to me and had just been caught in meetings.)
He removed Stella from her comfy post next to me on the bed. When Sue left she had been devastated to be left with this blob of a mother and was only pacified by an iphone playing Ke$ha and Kanye West, dog kisses, and her 50th applesauce of the day. I was totally out of it.
He took the kids to chick-fil-a and I promptly slept for the next two hours. I woke up feeling slightly more myself, like there was hope to regain my family, my marriage, and possibly my health. I even felt a little thirsty. I was feeling so bold that I went ahead and drank and entire glass of water, then waited to barf. Nothing happened though. I could drink again!
When I woke up this morning I still felt fearful and distrusting of my body. I waited for it to betray me all morning as I weakly started the process of cleaning my foul home. I started with laundry, then the toilets, then dusting, sweating heavily and having to sit down every 15 minutes or so. It was pathetic.
I did it though. I cleaned all day long and no longer am I living in filth.
When Aiden got off the bus, Sue took he and Cole to her house so I could finish vacuuming and mopping.
Seriously, she's saintly.
My house no longer is a giant petri dish for all that is toxic. I have lysoled, cloroxed, and scrubbed every visible surface that I could reach. I was not messing around.
I can not be sick again.