I have the stomach flu. Ordinarily, I would welcome a sick day––my life has been so chaotic recently that it seems almost a relief to lie in bed all day, even if I have to put up with a little discomfort to get there. But nausea is a different story. Also, I have too much I want to do: Lila’s preschool visits tomorrow, our show at Infinity Hall in Norfolk, CT and the dinner party we’re throwing for the church on Saturday. And now I’m really worried about Johnny. What if he gets this? He can’t afford to throw up meals. He might lose weight. Oh, dear! Help!
Tom had the stomach flu on Tuesday. Lila had diarrhea today. An hour ago there was some question as to whether I was really sick or just being psycho-sympathetic with Lila. Now it’s all I can do to sit up and write this. I want to go put my head down on the bathroom floor tiles and lie there on the cold ground. I want to moan like an animal.
I really thought that if I washed my hands religiously until they were cracked and bleeding (which they are) that I could avoid this. Apparently not. I am so sorry. Mostly worried about my kids. Also, this feeling right before you throw up is one of the scariest in the world: pain, mixed with a kind of primal fear of losing control. I will be OK. I just hate this.
“Don’t Try So Hard”
Is it a requirement that all children who become older siblings go through a regressive phase that includes talking babytalk, crawling, wanting to drink from bottles and eat from babyfood…