This week has been in the planning for awhile now.
YES.
THIS WEEK.
The plan included having a couple extra kids stay with us from Wednesday morning until Saturday morning, and, AND, we were going to have FUN!
Del Taco, Jump-on-it, the dollar-theatre, fun, fun, fun!
Or so I thought.
Tuesday night I got a tickle. This tickle was one that I recognized. It told me I had about an hour to do any work that I needed to do BEFORE I DIED.
By 5 I had put my jammies on. By 6 I had the bathrooms cleaned, and by 7 I was in bed, waiting. By 8:30 it had arrived.
My friend, the wish-for-death FLU.
As I laid in bed between, ahem, heaving (what a yucky word!) Dave came to the awakening that he was about to inherit the 'fun' with 6 kids that I had been looking forward to.
YEAH FUN!
By 10:30 the(insert yucky word here _____) was out of control. Dave was now stationed on the couch watching t.v because being within earshot of me was like trying to avoid staring at road kill, NOT THAT DIFFERENT. It was at this point that the realization of my imminent death came. I knocked on our bedroom wall until Dave came to see if I had indeed died.
The words had hardly left my mouth before Dave was ready. "Give me a blessing." Dave sprinted like a man on fire to find his oil, because, heaven help us, we were about to be parents to 6 kids, and I WAS SICK. That boy can certainly pray fervently when scared.
I took to praying myself that this wouldn't spread, but, you know, IT DID.
Sammy, Abby, and Trent all got it. Course, they only got a light touch of the death.
Dave took Wednesday and Thursday off of work to nurse all of us, and tried his best to squish in some fun so the extra little dumplings wouldn't go home saying that all they did was watch us throw-up. Instead, they can say they watched 38 movies and never left the house! Yeah for sick-people-fun!
Dave, thanks for saving-my-bacon, I OWE YOU ONE.
