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March 12, 2014

You know that feeling you get in your stomach before you realize you’re about to be sick? You know that moment when you realize you have approximately one minute or less to find the nearest restroom in effort of avoiding the worst case scenario? You know, that moment. That moment when you’re held hostage for 48 hours by the path between your bed and bathroom while you have no control over what your body decides to keep in or down or force back up or out. You know, that moment when you feel like the most disgusting creature in the world and your head is pounding and taking your temperature seems to require too much energy and the fact the world spins has never been more clear and everything aches including your eyelids and you just want to sleep it off or die, whichever comes first, to avoid the feeling of being turned inside out again. You know, that kind of feeling in your stomach that remains after everything else has left in such a hurry, without warning or any real reason.

That was me this week, but I feel much better now.

Allison locked me in our bedroom and practically sealed off the rest of the house before throwing on a hazmat suit to protect herself and Madison; she was determined whatever virus I had would start and end with me. She slept on the couch and Madison’s bedtime routine happened without me… a slight fist bump was all the interaction I received from either one of them over the course of a few days. A few days of consuming nothing but water and crackers that left me desperately craving a hot cup of coffee and some kisses from two of my favorite girls, both of which I received at the rise of the sun today. Good morning? It was indeed.


  1. Glad you're feeling better! The last time I was that sick was when our son was still in daycare. I contracted hand-foot-mouth from him. Ew.

    1. It's rough, but it's even worse when it spreads!


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