This is getting ridiculous. I was sick roughly a month ago. And roughly exactly a month before that. Fortunately (I guess?) this time it's not a cold-like thing. Instead, it's a stomach-bug-like thing. Oh, the joys!
Fortunately, Westley isn't sick. And extra-bonus fortunately I have a husband who brings me hippie sports drinks and runs the vacuum while I huddle under a fluffy blanket feeling shaky and miserable.
I refuse to believe that this sickness cycle is a coincidence, and I'll be seeing my doctor as soon as possible. In the meantime, however, I've decided that there should be some law of the universe that prevents the parents and caregivers of young children from getting sick for the first eight or ten years of a child's life.
At this point, the idea of voluntarily enduring a three-month flu bug while parenting a third grader seems like a treat compared to tackling any kind of illness with a baby, toddler, or preschooler in the house. I would gladly accept a hospital stay in 2017 for unsinkable health today.
(Or maybe that's just the dehydration talking.)
