The "F" Word

Get out your hazmat suits and Lysol spray because it's that time again. Yep, the "F" word has hit our house. Not the four letter F-word. NO no, that wouldn't be as bad as this. This time it's the three letter F-word: THE FLU.

Mac has it right now. In retrospect, I should have known something was going to happen. How, you ask? Well, it was Saturday night, I had all the laundry done and I'd had time to do dishes, vacuum the basement and steam mop it. The basement bathroom had been cleaned thoroughly for the first time in I-don't-know-when and I was looking forward to a housework free Sunday.

And then fate tapped me on the shoulder and whispered "Think again, Mom" in my ear.

Mac started throwing up at four. And again at five. And again at six. And again at seven. Thankfully, I slept through all of it except the last time. My dear sweet husband (who now probably regrets making the "I'll do poop if you do puke" deal with me when we had Mac) got up and dealt with it and I slept on, blissfully unaware.

I'm still having PTSD type flashbacks to the last time Mac had the flu and he power vomited salmon all over his walls, blankets, floors, bed, Better Giraffe... *Shiver*

The worst part is now I have this feeling of impending doom hanging over me because I'm pretty sure Harry and I are bound to get it. Why? Because I'm a kissy-huggy type of mom so I've had a LOT of contact with him. And Harry? Well, he got power-puked in the face by our lovely if slightly aim-impaired son so his downfall is inevitable.

So we are taking it easy today and comforting ourselves with copious amounts of Angry Birds while we wait for the axe to fall. And a liquid diet. See you on the other side...
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