He struck again. That sweet, precious, precocious, cutie pie that I always talk about is also a germ bomb. Last year, November 2012 to be exact, my son infected at least 15 family members and friends with the mother of all stomach viruses. I'll never forget the night it hit me. It was the night of my cousin's 21st birthday. A friend of mine and I attended her celebratory dinner. My friend bailed on going to the club, because she wasn't feeling well. I pushed and went to the 2nd stop, but I too had to leave, because I felt nauseated. I attributed my downfall to the alcohol, even though I hadn't had much, the loud music, and flashing lights. I distinctively remember thinking "well old girl, your days of partying until the wee hours are over." I got home and then bam; it started with vomiting and then it got worst. I will spare you the details, but if you have ever had a stomach virus then you know how ugly it can get.
My friend called me first thing in the morning. She sounded a little out of sorts. I asked her how she was feeling, and she said "I think I have food poisoning." I told her that I too wasn't feeling well and told her about my ordeal. We both busted into a fit of laughter, because she, her boyfriend, and I had all gone through the same ordeal all night and morning. We tried to pinpoint the culprit. First we blamed it on a piece of chocolate cake, but we nixed that. After exhausting all options we came to the conclusion it had to be Deuce since he was sick days earlier, and we had all been in contact with him. We started laughing again and both got off the phone to pay tribute to the porcelain throne.
Then the bodies of the infected started to add. Chris got sick. Then my parents, my brothers, Chris' parents, a cousin, and Chris' brother in Texas and his family. The virus crossed State lines all because his brother happened to be in town that weekend. The funny thing is that Deuce never seems to get it as bad as the adults.
Well the stomach virus has reared it's ugly head once again this week, and it hit both Chris and myself. The culprit, once again, was Deuce. Luckily, we were able to contain the outbreak: knock on wood.
I started feeling like myself Thursday, but unfortunately my jogging count by that day was 0, but I didn't want to press my luck with a jog. My sister came over that night and forced me to go to the grocery store and cook. My plan was to skip dinner, because I was being lazy, my kid was quarantined in Prairieville, and my husband was scared to eat. Anyway, I quickly broiled 3 thin ribeye steaks and sautéed a mixture of super greens.
Friday morning I was really feeling myself and decided to go for a jog. I started with a 5 min warm up walk, followed by some stretching, then a 15 minute jog, and finally a 6 min cool down walk. During the cool down, I called Chris and told him to join me for my second leg of jogging, and he actually did. Chris is not a morning person, so I was quite shocked. We then did a 25minute C25K, which added up to 10 minutes of jogging minus the warm up, cool down, and brisk walking.
I'm not going to lie, I could feel my stomach in my throat at times, but I persevered. I have to get in 4 more jogs this weekend. Wish me luck.
E
P.S. Chris and I are idiots. Well I'm an idiot. When we got home for our jog Chris told me to unlock the door. I informed him that I didn't have a key, because when I left, he was still at home. Chris then informed me that he assumed I brought my key. I then pretended to call my dad, because I had indeed picked up a key, but thought it would be funny to pretend otherwise. Chris thought the same thing, because he proceeded to pull the key out of his pocket. I showed him mine too, and we both had a chuckle. Then Chris pointed out that I had the wrong key, and we started crying laughing. If it wasn't for Chris, we really would have been locked out of the house.
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