It's amazing how fast my house goes from "clean" to "laundry bomb detonated, and took the kitchen out with it" when both BJ and I are sick.
I broke all the capillaries around my eyes. From now on these are called "Sad Freckles."
Compazine, which I should have taken about 6 hours earlier than I did, is the BEST THING EVER.
Children do not understand when you say, "I know that YOU feel better, but Mom and Dad still feel like death on toast, so please kindly shut up and stop needing food and water and clean diapers for the next 24 hours*."
I busted out some maternity yoga pants because the thought of wearing anything squeezy today made me sickish.
I would be the world's worst chronically ill person. If I had to deal with that day in and day out for a long time, with no end in sight, I would go down to the river and jump. The only thing that kept me sane was thinking, "I'll be better in 24 hours." Ugh. I am such a wimp.
Thank God for school, iPhones, good friends who kept my spirits up via text messages, apple juice, and compazine.
(I'm 90% better. BJ is still recovering. I've tamed the Laundry Monster and the kitchen is clean. Starting to feel human again. Contemplating Starbucks after I drop Claire off, so I must be all right.)
*I didn't actually say this to the children, but I thought it really loudly.