I’m the last man standing around here. Jim had eye surgery over Thanksgiving and then came down with the Norovirus just a couple of days after we got home. The poor guy had to vomit while trying not to strain his eye AT ALL or he could go completely blind FOREVER in that eye. That’s a lot of pressure. Good thing he was in the Army and was trained to survive enemy ambushes. Good Lord it’s been a hectic week around here.
We quarantined Jim in my art studio and slid food under the door. We thought maybe we would keep the virus from infiltrating the two-year old body of Tiny-Small, but today the enemy attacked and she went down without a fight. Poor kid had to learn how to throw-up properly. She didn’t understand you weren’t supposed to just swallow it. We had to drill her like she was in the Virus-Boot-Camp-Academy. “Spit it out! Spit it out!” we shouted as she looked at us with horror in her eyes. She couldn’t believe what was happening to her. She’s never barfed before. Even as a baby she wasn’t one to spit up much. I think I can count the number of times she spit up on one hand.
On the bright side, she now knows many new words: barf, puke, vomit, throw-up…diarhea. This is the education of Tiny-Small going strong and in full swing. She completely understand the meaning of the word sick and has even taken to referring to herself as “Poor Sick Baby.” It’s amazing she has lasted this long without coming down with the dreaded stomach flu. I mean, she lives with a man who sometimes works in a hospital and sometimes works in a school. These places are known hotbeds of bacterial and viral colonies swimming around in unknown bodily fluids. I guess she should count her lucky stars she hasn’t experienced this before.
By 8 am this morning I had already washed her blanket twice and redressed her four times. She gave up on wearing pants and decided to just crawl onto the floor and sleep like a pile of laundry in the middle of the room. The dogs stepped over her as the movie Shrek played on a continuous loop in the background. Then, she woke herself up by vomiting. Not the best way to come out of dreamland. Poor sick baby.
I’m praying and rain dancing and begging the universe to let this virus pass me by. I have washed the skin off of my hands and bleached every counter top, appliance, toilet and doorknob in a 500 foot radius. I am desperately trying to set up virus roadblocks to protect myself from getting sick. In a panic I decided I better write my blog posts ahead of time. Due to impending doom I have been forced to break my streak of procrastination and take charge of things. This is not my normal mode of operation, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I may be running out of time and I have deadlines to meet! Not to mention my blogging buddy reminded me (and everyone else on twitter) that Christmas is only three weeks away. I didn’t believe her until I looked at the calendar and confirmed her announcement to be true. Then I wept a little for all of the people who will likely get their Christmas cards from me the day AFTER Christmas (at least I will have a good excuse this year).
So, I will refrain from begging you to pray for me because I mean, it’s just a virus and I know there are people who need your prayers more than I do, but still, send any good thoughts, or virus karate chopping vibes you might happen to have lying around my way if you don’t mind. I am going to need all of the help I can get. This isn’t going to be pretty.