Boy oh boy did I pay off some sins on Sunday! I didn't realize I still had so many to amend but clearly I do. After a long morning of Christmas shopping I came home with The Missy and embarked on an outdoor play date with her and her brother only to find that I brought home a lot more than just Christmas presents from the store...
I didn't feel quite well but I also didn't feel like hell...yet. When dinner time came around I was getting there. The Hubba was convinced that since I hadn't eaten since morning and that 75% of my meal was consumed by the beggars I was just REALLY hungry. I liked that idea. So I was hoping that eating dinner would be music to my tummy's ears. It was not. In 2 hours time I was curled up in the fetal position on my son's bedroom floor. Bedtime Bonanza had to be turned over to the Man of the House as I was in no shape for such. I thought if I supervised from the 6x3 space of carpet I was populating that would be good enough. I think The Man thought I was exaggerating when I told him I felt so bad and he abruptly said, "Well, if it's this bad you should just go to bed!"...at 6:30. So I heeded his word and did just that, thinking that a good night's sleep would whisk this away. O contraire, mon frere. I laid in bed groaning for awhile and the little lass jumped in to check on me. Said "Mommy, why do you look like this?" and I explained that I didn't feel well. She peeps, "Oh that's ok. You'll feel better after you sleep." Sound advice coming from a kid who sleeps 45 minutes in any given 24 hour period, but whatever. She then sheepishly leaves the room to retire herself and like a ton of bricks it hit me. Oh no!
Hubby came downstairs after the "good nights" and admitted, he too was not feeling so hot. Being that I had already "lost it" once and didn't find it necessary to share with my husband every single last secret I have, I decided to sleep upstairs. I had also hoped that he was merely having sympathy pains for me and didn't really have the bug. (Denial is a true friend of mine.) And if Hubba was just suffering from sympathy pains I was not about to put the nail in the coffin and breath on him all night long. Clearly what I had picked up at the store was an adult-sized, heaping spoonful of shit and "sharing" this is not really the Christmas spirit I am all about. Turns out, I share and I share well...holidays or not I like to give to my brethren. We were both miserable all night. Aching, sweating, tossing, turning...and well, you know the rest. At one point, whimpering on the bathroom floor, I actually made "The God-barter"...you know the one...similar to the one you make when you are suffering from a hugely obscene hangover and you bargain that if He just makes it go away you PROMISE never to drink again. But this scene involved no alcohol...just the begging! And for some reason I had a distinct feeling that this had to be punishment as both my husband and I got it at the same time. I don't know many better forms of torture than to have 2 grown adults rushing to the bathroom every 5 minutes while trying to care for 2 small children. If this is not penance it certainly resembles it!
On the plus side, being that my body felt like a freight train had been running routes in it all night long and I could hardly stand up straight from the muscle contractions I made a wise choice to take a swim in our hot tub. At about 4:30am I decided to throw in the towel because I obviously was not going to be able to sleep and went outside for a minuscule moment of relaxation. It was a nice, cool morning and completely clear. Not a cloud or even the slightest sighting of the moon--DARK! Stars all around, I looked up and realized it had been eons since I had seen a shooting star. Couldn't remember the last time. Because really, when was the last time I had truly taken the opportunity to just gaze up without thoughts of children, taxes, groceries or laundry. I was so sick the only thing on my mind was the present...totally incapable of thinking of anything else. Lost in my misery, gazing up above, what did I see? None other than a shooting star! I was so amazed that I asked for something and received it immediately. Had it been December 24th, I would insist to you that Santa gave it to me. Then not 2 minutes later I received another gift--another shooting star! I was astonished. Double the pleasure. Getting double what you want? When does this happen? And the only answer I could find was "always." Just gotta be paying attention. It reminded me of the time in 6th grade when my mom and I got into an early morning fight before shcool. She ended the argument with "Fine! Then you can just take your bike to school!" Psha--GREAT--Fine is right! My whole trip riding to school I was writhing with anger and reciting "Please God, let me get hit by a car." (I know, dramatic, right? Hey, I was going to Catholic school at the time. Who else was I supposed to talk to?) And this was my plea because in my mind if I were to get hit by said vehicle oh how bad my mom would have felt about the argument and the decision to make me ride my bike to school. Much to my chagrin, no vehicular encounter. Went along with my happy day. Got to school and forgot all about the fight, the plea, everything. Riding home that afternoon SMASH! Got hit by a van. No injury aside from a pair of torn Keds but holy shit did that get my attention. My 1st real brush with the Big Man and one that should have scared me right into the convent. The lesson I learned from that was heavily laden...Pray carefully! It was also proof that we often do get what we wish for--but we have to keep our eyes open. Sometimes it's big (getting hit by a car) and sometimes it's small (a falling star). It was just a sweet little reminder for me that I have everything I could ever need and want--and THEN some! Funny how the little things can get me right out of that pity party and right into "What a wonderful life!"...even when I AM serving a penance ;) Thanks for reading my woes :)
I didn't feel quite well but I also didn't feel like hell...yet. When dinner time came around I was getting there. The Hubba was convinced that since I hadn't eaten since morning and that 75% of my meal was consumed by the beggars I was just REALLY hungry. I liked that idea. So I was hoping that eating dinner would be music to my tummy's ears. It was not. In 2 hours time I was curled up in the fetal position on my son's bedroom floor. Bedtime Bonanza had to be turned over to the Man of the House as I was in no shape for such. I thought if I supervised from the 6x3 space of carpet I was populating that would be good enough. I think The Man thought I was exaggerating when I told him I felt so bad and he abruptly said, "Well, if it's this bad you should just go to bed!"...at 6:30. So I heeded his word and did just that, thinking that a good night's sleep would whisk this away. O contraire, mon frere. I laid in bed groaning for awhile and the little lass jumped in to check on me. Said "Mommy, why do you look like this?" and I explained that I didn't feel well. She peeps, "Oh that's ok. You'll feel better after you sleep." Sound advice coming from a kid who sleeps 45 minutes in any given 24 hour period, but whatever. She then sheepishly leaves the room to retire herself and like a ton of bricks it hit me. Oh no!
Hubby came downstairs after the "good nights" and admitted, he too was not feeling so hot. Being that I had already "lost it" once and didn't find it necessary to share with my husband every single last secret I have, I decided to sleep upstairs. I had also hoped that he was merely having sympathy pains for me and didn't really have the bug. (Denial is a true friend of mine.) And if Hubba was just suffering from sympathy pains I was not about to put the nail in the coffin and breath on him all night long. Clearly what I had picked up at the store was an adult-sized, heaping spoonful of shit and "sharing" this is not really the Christmas spirit I am all about. Turns out, I share and I share well...holidays or not I like to give to my brethren. We were both miserable all night. Aching, sweating, tossing, turning...and well, you know the rest. At one point, whimpering on the bathroom floor, I actually made "The God-barter"...you know the one...similar to the one you make when you are suffering from a hugely obscene hangover and you bargain that if He just makes it go away you PROMISE never to drink again. But this scene involved no alcohol...just the begging! And for some reason I had a distinct feeling that this had to be punishment as both my husband and I got it at the same time. I don't know many better forms of torture than to have 2 grown adults rushing to the bathroom every 5 minutes while trying to care for 2 small children. If this is not penance it certainly resembles it!
On the plus side, being that my body felt like a freight train had been running routes in it all night long and I could hardly stand up straight from the muscle contractions I made a wise choice to take a swim in our hot tub. At about 4:30am I decided to throw in the towel because I obviously was not going to be able to sleep and went outside for a minuscule moment of relaxation. It was a nice, cool morning and completely clear. Not a cloud or even the slightest sighting of the moon--DARK! Stars all around, I looked up and realized it had been eons since I had seen a shooting star. Couldn't remember the last time. Because really, when was the last time I had truly taken the opportunity to just gaze up without thoughts of children, taxes, groceries or laundry. I was so sick the only thing on my mind was the present...totally incapable of thinking of anything else. Lost in my misery, gazing up above, what did I see? None other than a shooting star! I was so amazed that I asked for something and received it immediately. Had it been December 24th, I would insist to you that Santa gave it to me. Then not 2 minutes later I received another gift--another shooting star! I was astonished. Double the pleasure. Getting double what you want? When does this happen? And the only answer I could find was "always." Just gotta be paying attention. It reminded me of the time in 6th grade when my mom and I got into an early morning fight before shcool. She ended the argument with "Fine! Then you can just take your bike to school!" Psha--GREAT--Fine is right! My whole trip riding to school I was writhing with anger and reciting "Please God, let me get hit by a car." (I know, dramatic, right? Hey, I was going to Catholic school at the time. Who else was I supposed to talk to?) And this was my plea because in my mind if I were to get hit by said vehicle oh how bad my mom would have felt about the argument and the decision to make me ride my bike to school. Much to my chagrin, no vehicular encounter. Went along with my happy day. Got to school and forgot all about the fight, the plea, everything. Riding home that afternoon SMASH! Got hit by a van. No injury aside from a pair of torn Keds but holy shit did that get my attention. My 1st real brush with the Big Man and one that should have scared me right into the convent. The lesson I learned from that was heavily laden...Pray carefully! It was also proof that we often do get what we wish for--but we have to keep our eyes open. Sometimes it's big (getting hit by a car) and sometimes it's small (a falling star). It was just a sweet little reminder for me that I have everything I could ever need and want--and THEN some! Funny how the little things can get me right out of that pity party and right into "What a wonderful life!"...even when I AM serving a penance ;) Thanks for reading my woes :)
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