I'd love to tell you about the rest of our week, how Ethan had a blast at the park with a bunch of new friends, and how excited we are to have friends from home visiting us from home, but I can't.
You see, for the past 12+ hours, I've been sitting on a toilet AND puking into a waste bucket. Ironic, no? I can no longer claim, as in my last post, to have only thrown up twice in my life, because last night, I got in a whole lifetime's worth. And let's just say that multi-tasking, in that department, is the single most disgusting experience of my life. Makes what Billy Beaulieu did in the 8th grade look like a hiccup. I may never eat again.
And while I feel hideous right at this moment, I have to admit there was a tiny little glimmer of "if I drop 20lbs from the fear of doing that again, I might actually be able to invest in a pair of True Religions. Oh, sweet jeans." But that's a whole other blog so I'll leave it alone here.
So the mystery is--food poisoning or stomach bug. The storm hit within an hour of eating dinner last night (and seriously, I can't even tell you what I ate because given what the last 15 hours have been like, I want to block it from my memory, forever). Let's just say, California Pizza Kitchen is OFF my list. Buh-bye. But then, Ethan did throw up on Monday, so perhaps he really did have a stomach bug (although it was nothing like this in severity, thank goodness) and passed it on to me? I don't know.
I do know that I have a houseful of guests arriving in 30-some odd hours and I am praying that it's food poisoning because really--who wants to spend their vacation bringing me glasses of Gatorade and scrubbing their own hands raw in an effort to avoid the sickies?? Bad hostess, bad!
And with that, I will crawl back into bed until the toilet and bucket beckon again.