With Bryce gone for months, my worst fear as a single mom has been getting really sick. Myself. Sick kids I can deal with, even when they all go down. I'm not easily grossed out, I'm used to not sleeping and cleaning up messes. And really, sick kids are usually good for hours of cuddling and watching TV. But being sick myself and having to deal with the exhausting routine of three small children all day and night just makes me want to crawl in a hole. But on Friday, it finally happened. I got the stomach flu and spent all night hugging the toilet. And then I woke up Saturday morning with three healthy kids demanding breakfast, who I had promised to take to the haunted house. I will admit to feeling pretty sorry for myself and having a bit of a pity party in my pajamas for a few hours. But we made it. No worse for the wear.
We even got dressed and took Porter to the mall so he could go through the haunted house. The girls didn't go as there was no way I was repeating last year's epic parenting fail, but he had a good time. We also got the big kids ski pass photos taken, where they promptly sensed my foul mood, and totally stopped cooperating.
Stay safe out there on the East Coast. Night.