Like Moths To A Flame

As promised, I’m going to post about the stomach bug that made its way through our house. Aside from sleep or a Star Wars marathon, nothing good happens between the hours of midnight and six in the morning — not in my over 30 world, anyway. As such, I’m going to skip over certain details and mainly talk about my kids.

To get started, here’s an idea of how I looked last Tuesday after the late night festivities.

That’s not someone you’d want to be hanging out with, is it? No, that’s someone you’d want to send a text saying, “Hope you feel better, and stay the hell away.”

That’s how most people would act. Maybe a spouse would poke his head in and ask if I wanted a drink of water or something. Or maybe he wouldn’t and get on my shit list, cough.

As you’ve likely already gathered, my children aren’t most people.

The kids were told to stay out of my room, but nothing makes them want me more than a) being on the phone or b) being sick. It sounds like Baby Girl is trying to break the door down when my husband locks it, and Little Man will grab his library card and push it between the door frame and the lock to open the door. They both have their reasons for wanting to get to me, though — very different reasons.

Remember Baby Girl’s obsession with the doctor? She loves going, and when she knows someone isn’t feeling well, she becomes very opportunistic.

I had to break it to her that, no, I wasn’t going to the doctor. “This is a virus; we don’t go to the doctor for viruses.” Not the 24-hour type, anyway.

“We go to the doctor and get you a band-aid! And a shot! And she listen to your heart with the stethoscope!”

“No.”

“We get an ambulance and go to the hospital and see doctor there?” One last shot.

“No.”

And then she largely lost interest in me.

Now for Little Man.

Little Man is a very empathetic child — he can’t stand it when I’m not feeling well and is very protective and will fawn over me. He’ll take it upon himself to bring in a trash bag to throw up in, a cold drink, and a snack, and offer to turn on my favorite TV show. He makes my heart melt with his thoughtfulness, and he’s been this way as long as I can remember.

It’s hard to say “no” to that. I gave in to a quick cuddle, explaining that I didn’t want him to get sick, too. That brief cuddle was enough, though, since the next night, this happened —

He was fine at first, but a few hours later, I heard, “Mommy, I feel like…” and then the poor kiddo puked everywhere. He happened to be lying between my husband and me in the bed when it happened, so my husband woke up to less-than-pleasant circumstances.

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Netflix And (Legit) Chill

A night without the kids is an amazing thing. You can do all sorts of things that you can’t when they’re with you — eat at nice restaurants, go shopping whine-free, eat snack cakes without little vultures appearing when they hear the crinkling of the cellophane.

On to plans for the night — there are many decisions to be made. Where do we go? What do we eat? Do we stay home and do the parenting version of Netflix and chill (you know — the one where all you do is watch Netflix and actually chill)? Hmm.

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What do you like to do when you get a night to yourself?