Death by apples

I woke up yesterday at about 5 am, and greeted the Porcelain God with desperate devotion. I did not leave the cold linoleum of my bathroom until the sun started peeking through the cheap, bug-splattered blinds. Did I accidentally add arsenic to my apple pie? I knew there was a reason why I don’t cook.

LB arose from dreamland and asked, “Mommy sick?”

“Yes, Mommy’s tummy hurts.”

“Kiss and make it better?”

I really didn’t want my 2-year-old watching me blow chunks, so I tried locking her out of the bathroom. Unfortunately, separation anxiety reared its ugly head and LB was immediately banging on the door and crying semi-hysterically. Oh the Trauma I’ve inflicted on her!

I pictured the next 12 hours filled with this routine and hauled myself up to get the child ready for daycare. Sadly, I was only able to get myself to knee-level, which works well for dressing a 2-year-old, but doesn’t help at all when descending a staircase and driving a car. At this point I was getting 5 minutes in between trips to el baño, so the commute to daycare would have included 3 roadside puke breaks. NOT HAPPENING.

I considered my options: Stay home with Toddler. Grandma Sharon lives 30 minutes away. Grandpa Thom rides his bike to work. Rooferman = like he would ever help me. Sister lives in Alaska. Jiji also rides her bike to school/work. JL lives in town. Curmudgeon lives near Grandma Sharon.

Grandma Ruby happens to live 5 minutes from my house. I took a chance and called to see if she was heading into town. I woke her up. DAMMIT. She, being a sweet as apple cherry pie, became my salvation that morning and drove LB to daycare in her Dually.

After calling into to work (I guess that’s what I get for playing hooky on Monday), I promptly laid down on the floor, wrapped myself in a blanket and passed out. I slept until 2 pm. Didn’t wake up once. I had weird dreams about Rooferman and his “Posse” stalking me at a bar. It was like a Western. I thought he was gonna pull out his six-shooter.

I really can’t tell if I had food poisoning, the 24-hour stomach flu, or if I’m becoming one of those IBS people. I looked up IBS on WebMD and read “can be brought on by stress.” Hmmm, what ISN’T?

Anyway, after 18 hours of sleep, 2 Culturelle pills, some green tea and a single cup of Activia yogurt, I’m back.

P.S. Rooferman still hasn’t been served. Apparently there are a record amount of losers needing to be served by the Plata County Sheriff, and they haven’t gotten to him yet.