Pukey McPuke and the Poop Festival...

I never knew how hard it was to be sick with a child in the house. I'm full of fever, and achey, and sweaty, feeling like a sledgehammer to the side of my head might feel better than all of this, and Zedder is on the prowl. She's been good, beyond good, and June's bore the brunt of all the work, but Zo's squeals of joy have never felt more tortuous, her eagerness to play with Daddy, have never felt like more of a chore, and if I could just sleep until some healthy day distant I would. To make matters worse, Zo skipped her afternoon nap, and after a frustrated Mom left her quietly chilling in her room so that she could make a run to the store and Zed could try to get some rest, Zo hosted a poop festival in her room. I heard her call for me in my half dazed state, and so I went to see how she was, to pull her out and back into my savage world of sick and tired, when she pointed out the poop smeared on her bed and on her pillow case. It wasn't awful, and I'm glad that she called for me the instant that she noticed that something wasn't right in her pants. It turned out to be the worst poop explosion since forever, and of course, there was no one to help. I fought off the dizzyness and nausea that I had been struggling with all day, and there's absolutely no exaggeration in that remark...I've felt on the verge of toppling over on a few occasions, and my stomach has taken up new residence in my throat. Then I did what needed to be done. I cleaned Zo up and I stripped the bed and brought the filthy sheets etc...to the laundry. The timing of it couldn't have been more ridiculous. I've felt hung over all day, in the worst way, and Zoey's gastrointestinal system decides to throw me a challenge unlike any I've ever seen.

I just want to feel good. I'd do just about anything to feel good right now... anything but clean up a poop festival again.