When You’ve Got the GI Bug and You Could Truly Care Less That Your Kids Are Painting The House

Ugh. We grilled chicken Thursday night, and realized some pieces were undercooked… It could have been that, or our trip the the Children’s Library earlier that day. Whatever the reason, I’ve had this low-grade temp and nausea thing going on since the wee hours of Friday. 

Following my own rule of “If you’re not throwin’, you better get goin'”, I dragged my sorry self to the train, found a seat, held my breath, and got through my clinic without anyone noticing that I felt like crap. 

I left early, and went to my mom’s to pick up the kids. Thank you mom for getting me Alka-seltzer and letting me collapse on a lounge chair for two hours. 

When I knew Hubby was on his way home, we packed it up and trucked over. He handled bath and bedtime, and I slept for fourteen hours. FOURTEEN HOURS. 

Now, he’s at a special Saturday media thing at the stadium (football season has started, my friends!) and I’m home with the kids. 

I feel pretty much the same as yesterday, but immensely thankful that A. I’m not on call and B. We have these huge bottles of Crayola Tempera washable paint. 

Hubby won’t be happy, but right now, these two have been completely and blissfully occupied, while I sit on my ass. 

Pretty colors, huh?

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