Thursday, March 13, 2014


Today started at 1:30am -- to a little boy hollering that he needed a garbage can.

Can I just say, I love that Reid is old enough to wake himself up in the middle of the night, tell me he's sick, and hold out until I bring him the can. How awesome is that? Yay for Reid!

Yay for Netflix and hours and hours of Wild Krats. Yay for "special drinks" (sprite mixed with gatorade) and my sweet little boy who handled this stomach virus like a boss.

Not such a big yay for the super yucky feelings my tummy had late Thursday evening (okay, confession time ... I'm writing this on Sunday evening), when I was finally headed to bed.

This was the weirdest sickness I've ever had. I don't even know how to describe it, and I probably shouldn't (it's the flu after all), but it felt just as awful as having the 24 hour stomach flu but I never actually had any of the physical symptoms of the 24 hour stomach flu. Super weird, but equally as horrible.

Three things I learned (or re-learned). The stomach flu is so humbling to me. I cannot put my head near a toilet bowl without thinking of how wonderful the atonement of Jesus Christ is. Seriously, He suffered everything ... I can hardly stomach (ha ha) the flu, and that must have been NOTHING compared to His pains in Gethsemane. Some people might find it strange that the flu is a time of spiritual reflection for me, but it is. 

Even more strange -- I LOVE the smell of toilet when I'm sick (clean toilet, obviously). Honest to goodness, the smell of porcelain and water calms my tummy. Only if I'm sick though. If I'm sick that thing smells heavenly. It's a weird calming smell I first noticed as a child, and I've just never grown out of it. 

And number three, some people might think this makes me a bad mom, but I'd rather my kids be sick than me. So I guess I don't really learn that much about the atonement when I suffer the flu. I just find it so much easier to take care of sick kids than to take care of kids whilst being sick. I'd much rather comfort Reid while he heaves his yuckies into the garbage can than spend my evening trying to find rest on the cold bathroom tile during the moments I'm not calming my tummy with the scent of toilet bowl. Yup, bad mom over here. But at least I'll admit it!

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