I'm calling you the Flu, because otherwise I don't know what you are. You are by the far the worst intestinal, fever inducing, body-aching thing I as an adult have yet to experience. Being on the other side of it now, I must say I feel quite triumphant, but am nervous if you might continue to grow stronger off of those you have not yet killed.
As I've been talking with people, there are many of us, apparently enduring your assault. And those of us all seem to have one thing in common. We have no "sick days" in which someone else steps up to fight the good fight. What this means is we are trying to schedule your attacks on our bowels and intestines around pick-up, drop-off, meals (which often causes gag-reflex issues, acid reflux and some inner mouth vomiting just in the preparation), bedtime and any other thing that might HAVE to happen in order to keep our kids occupied and fed.
I'd like to address two things with you, Flu.
1. Ya picked Easter Eve?!?!?!?! Please add to the above list of scheduling the responsibilities of said Easter Bunny. Fucker.
2. And secondly, thank you---yes, thank you, Flu---take this one as I will never thank you again. But thank you, for assaulting my husband simultaneously thereby allowing a side-by side comparison of two (the mommy and the daddy) enduring the same illness at the same time. While horribly painful, and our home is a mess, I believe this simultaneous occurrence is as rare as spotting a leprechaun. And it is this way so that the battle of which gender is tougher while sick can continue. My dear Flu, the gift you gave me among all the horror and destruction was a white flag--waved by my spouse, as I assembled baskets, cooked Easter dinner for the kids and hid every egg.
In the words of Miss Piggy, often quoted by my five year old son, "I'm a woman! I am strong!"
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