Lysol

Cousin Ralph

I am forever amazed at the strength of women. It is something that can be seen throughout the age range. They have a perseverance that men don’t deserve. Allow me to explain.

We are in the throes of an illness that I am pretty sure is the flu. It started Thursday with the youngest child and if you have an aversion to these kinds of stories this is where you need to exit the story train.

 

I even gave you guys an extra space to consider your actions so we can continue. My conscience is clear.

 

So all this started Thursday with Lady Bug blowing chunks of curdled milk at school. Supermom got the call and picked her up. She was acting normal except for the vomiting so we thought maybe just a minor thing. A couple of hours later I got a text that let me know that it was not a minor thing. Lady Bug left the room to “go potty” and came back without pants on. Supermom asked why she had no pants and she replied that she was hot. Sitting around with no pants is not too out of the ordinary so Supermom let it ride for a few minutes. Some brief few moments later Supermom discovered that “I was hot” is code for “I completed ruined my sweat pants”. No worries because the dog had discovered this already and had done some pre-cleaning. That text alone gave me the flu over the phone.

I weighed the options and considering everything that has been swirling around school I decided to pull the other three out of school and maybe cut down on the spread. We divided all the children and passed out the sanitizer. We rubbed the belly on a Buddha statue. We drank Elderberry juice. We patted our heads and rubbed our tummies at the same time. Anything for some good luck.

Everyone stayed out of school on Friday. By Friday night we thought we might luck out. I had started a fever but none of the other symptoms. We all went to bed and things were good until about 4:00 am. Threeto was crying and had created a slight mess. Her bed is a rustic style wooden bunk bed. She sleeps on top bunk and had apparently tossed her cookies on the top step of the stairs on the side. It walked down to the carpet like a putrid slinky. I heard the call and rose to the challenge. Fever or no fever I was going to help. Except… about the time I got to the bedroom I realized I was in my own brand of trouble. I didn’t explain. I just turned around and went to our bathroom for some porcelain prayer time.

I don’t know if anyone else has encountered the dilemma of choosing which problem to tackle first but my brain wasn’t in a good place. As I sat on the throne and held the garbage can in front of me I had an inner voice, let’s call it an angel, whisper to me. She said, “You need to put your face on the tile to survive.” So, by the time Supermom made it to check on me I was in some strange contortion, face down, trying to get every inch of my naked skin to touch cold tile. It was a graceful thing to see. I made it back to the bed and dosed up on some Phenergan which kept me off the tile for the rest of the night.

Everyone else is on alert and Supermom has started showing some symptoms. That makes four of us and it inspired a discussion on the strength of women.

All of my girls, wife included, have this supernatural ability to remain upright while puking. The younger two girls actually voluntarily do it from a standing position. Who stands up? Cyborgs who are unfamiliar with biologic functions? My body is not built that way. I have to lay my head on the toilet seat and practically duct tape myself in position because my muscles are useless. If I pass out and break my neck then that’s just how it goes. I break into sweats and start negotiating with the baby Jesus for an ounce of sweet release. They are all fancy about it like other women will be watching so they better keep things straight. It is impressive.

Anyway.

If you have ever watched a virus progressing its way through the family you know the terror. This post is for you. You’re welcome.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.