Happy Day/Sick Day

Well, today started off in the WORST possible way. There I was . . . sleeping peacefully, dreaming of being the guy who touches things and they turn to skittles, when BAM . . . three a.m. and someone put a taffy puller in my stomach and turned it on! Oh great . . . I know this feeling. I've had it before . . . FOOD POISONING! Man am I starting to regret letting the family eat at McDonald's. And even more, I am regretting the "healthy" choice of grilled chicken instead of the crispy chicken. I knew that thing didn't look right.

So thanks to some Larry at McDonald's, I am now suffering in pain, tossing to and fro in the bed, and making FREQUENT trips to the bathroom. . . NONE of which my dear sweet husband even notices. How is it even possible that he can sleep through that? I tried to be really loud and obnoxious with my moans of pain . . . I figured if I must suffer, why not have company, but it didn't work. He woke fresh as a daisy after his 12 hours of sleep and asked if I was getting up today!!!! Are you kidding me? "Did you not notice my 30 trips to the bathroom last night? Can you not see I am in pain?" Nope . . . but are you going to church with us? Sometimes men are so pathetic.

The answer is no . . . I am not going to church with you - but take the kids and have a blast! No such luck - the baby is staying with me. It has always amazed me that I have the ability to handle all three kids by myself, but my DSH (dear sweet husband) has trouble with one at a time. So with the first group out of the house, I lie down to suffer some more. Unable to eat, I contemplate how my problem began . . . at McDonald's. Now, maybe I am being overly harsh, but how hard can it POSSIBLY be to cook a piece of process chicken to the proper temperature and serve it to the masses? It's not like working at McD's requires a degree or anything, so I don't expect much, but can it really be that hard? Obviously it is . . . and I vow that we are NOT eating at that McDonald's anytime soon, and no amount of crying from the kids (or the husband for that matter) is going to change my mind.

A few hours later the crew is home, and the house is now a disaster. My DSH comes into the bathroom as I am running a bath and asks if I am on vacation today . . . REALLY? Did he REALLY just ask me that? He is lucky I didn't have anything handy that could have been considered a lethal weapon! So this brings me to another question for the ages . . . why is it that when a man is sick, it's ok for him to lie in bed and cry out for you to pamper him and baby him all day . . . oh and can you please keep the kids quiet? My head hurts . . . but when a WOMAN is sick - it's a vacation to have a bath???? So after I let him know that the taffy puller in my stomach was not my idea of a vacation, I took my bath . . . after which he asked me what was for dinner. AHHHHHHH!!!!! Are you freaking kidding me??? I guess the bath should have cured all my woes. Anyway . . . I told him that I wasn't eating since I still felt like crap, so they could all have what I was having. An hour later he started fixing dinner . . . and I being the dutiful wife, helped.

So . . . there is my gripe for today . . . Larry Losers at McDonald's and a husband who thinks me being sick can only last a portion of the day before I get back to taking care of everyone.

Now for the HAPPY DAY stuff - this day could have been a total and utter failure, except for the fact that the Miami Dolphins won against the Denver Broncos. After years of teams that left me feeling a lot like I did because of the food poisoning, things are finally starting to look up. And we beat the team that the rest of my wonderful family loves, which makes the win so much sweeter (sorry family . . . it's not personal!) Dolphins win! Dolphins win! Dolphins win! Ah that makes me happy . . . so much so, that I think I will forgive McDonald's . . . and my husband :)