I am getting some serious karma payback this week. Disaster week (as I like to call it) began on my birthday. I woke up sick as hell and spent the entire day in the bathroom. Seriously, eight hours folks. The Chef took the day off work to watch the boy and I wallowed in vomit and misery. Happy birthday to me.
Saturday rolls around and I feel better, not puking, and able to go to work. I went home and went to sleep. The Chef played mommy again and came home from work early to take care of the boy. What a man I married. Gotta love him!
Sunday morning I awaken fresh and new and excited for my big b-day party at the in laws. Fast forward 8 hours and Catcher is projectile vomiting all over the Chef. Poor baby is so sick, he refuses to leave my arms and then later on that night refuses to leave my bed.
We rise on Monday. Everything seems fine. The boy isn't sick. He's happy and he's headed to grandma's while the Chef and I head to some meetings. Our ten o'clock is running late so we both drive over to the Honda dealership to look at their hybrids. I am driving a work minivan because as of now we are a one car family. As we are leaving the dealership, I back up and hit a brand new 2007 CRV. Yes indeed, I hit a parked car. Of course the damage is minimal to my work van and serious on the Honda. Long story short, the damage done is going to costs about $1600. I filled a claim with my insurance, who then proceeded to go after my father's insurance (his biz is the owner of the car). Needless to say he is not a happy camper.
Hello Tuesday! A brand new day and my hubby, super dad decides that he is going to take the boy to the Great Lakes Science Center while I am at work. Everything seems to be all good. I come home from the mines and we all head up to the fabulous High Point pool to get our swim on. We come home, eat dinner, put the boy to bed, and start to watch the Cavs. It's looking like disaster week may be over but WAIT, it's not. Jon starts violently (seriously) puking. It is so gross. You know, having your baby puke is one thing, but having the man you have sex with puking is another. Especially because I really believe that all MEN are super over exaggerators when they are sick. This theory is based on my dad and my husband. When they are sick it is like the world had ended and they were left alone on this planet to roam forever. So, the Chef continues puking, which in turn cause the boy to wake up. It's now midnight. The Cavs lost, the hubby's sick, and the boy wants milk (which of course we are out of).
Today (Wednesday) I woke up at 6 to find every door in my house wide open and my husband sprawled across the living room floor wrapped in our comforter. I rush to get the boy ready and take him to grandma's so he doesn't get the sickness from daddy. I am now at work, sweating balls, trying not to step on any cracks.
Two more days of this shit and disaster week will be coming to a close. Wish us luck.