Wednesday my Kindzia streak of consistently working out everyday for at least 30 minutes since 12/31/07 ended.
That's right. I caught Beau's stomach bug.
Holy moly. It was awful. I haven't been that sick in well, since last December when I had pneumonia or whatever the hell that month long chest rot I had then was. Really, though, this time was much worse than not being able to breathe. I just laid in my bed for 2 days and writhed in pain. I will spare you the ugly details since I can assume that you have probably at least once in your life succumbed to the perils of a stomach bug.
And I do feel lucky because my kids are older. Nothing. I mean nothing is worse than having a stomach bug and having to care for a toddler. Baby, not great. Preschooler, still not good. Kindergartner and second grader? Still not fun but with the older ones there is considerably less laundry as they are proficient in getting to the toilet to upsie or you, know, downsie. And babies, well, most of them are breastfed or still mostly bottle fed and well, a stomach bug on a liquid diet? Really how is that any different than everyday? But the toddler. They are mobile. And diapers? They leak. Oh God. It is everywhere.
So yeah, that was my silver lining. I don't have a toddler. Oh, and I also got lucky in that only one of my kids was sick when I was. Right, the easy one. Well sort of. No, not really in this case.
Bless the sweet pea's heart. She thinks just being human is creepy. So she is sort of a pathetic patient because she is so freaked out by the very idea of bodily functions so it is so much worse when they actually happen to her. Beau, on the otherhand, is sort of in awe about. He is like, whatever. I threw up. Can I go play at my friend's house now?
With Carmella there is hyperventaliating. Crying. Pacing. Writhing. Yeah, like two of me. We were in competition for who was more pathetic. And since she is seven who do you think won? Right. Like I've said before. She is always the better person. I was most pathetic.
-----------------------Oh, and Ryan would like me to mention "how awesome he is."
And by "awesome" I think he is referring to that he didn't come within 20 feet of me or Carmella without at least first spraying down the air with Lysol--which I can assure you did nothing for my nausea. He made Carmella sleep with me in the Hazmat room--aka, our bedroom.
Okay, he did do lots of laundry but that was only because I told him he couldn't go hunting unless he did. Oh, and he did take and pick up Beau from school.
So yes, that was pretty awesome. But. I think he just knew that there was the potential that I might survive this little bug and there would certainly be hell to pay then.
And I will say that mostly, in my opinion, it was pretty awesome that he didn't get said bug because that would have meant I would have been the one doing all the laundry and taking/picking up Beau to/from school and that would have meant I would have had to drag my half dead self out of bed. Which I promise you, wasn't going to happen.----------------------------------------
So for 2 days Carmella and I have laid in bed moaning, not eating or drinking and pretty much just about dying.
I deemed us well.
I based this on the lack of vomiting for over 24 hours, no fever and that we both managed to eat something other than a saltine last night for dinner without dry heaving.
So, I sent Carmella to school, along with Beau. I planned to run.After copious amount of laundry and decontaminating happened, of course.
She came back home at 9 am.
She has been fine since she came home so I think she was just freaked out about the possibility of getting ill at school. She said her tummy hurt. I, of course, didn't believe her. We are well I told her. But she had already been to that damn school nurse so I had to take her home. They all ganged up on me, what could I do?
Well, I'll tell you.
I went by her teacher's room and got lots of work for her to do. My thinking was that Carmella rather enjoyed her lay-in-bed- watch-TV-and-color-puppy-pictures-and-vomit-vacation. I mean, she did make puppy pictures for at least 14 of her closest BFF's. Who makes stuff for their friend's when they are sick? I'll tell you who, fakers!
So, I was a little merciless making her do math homework, social studies, reading, art project and even write a story. But she had writer's block and still hasn't finished the story. She also does not appreciate at all the fabulous Face Book suggestions received either. I think they have further crippled her creativity. So "The Talking Crayon Box" remains an unfinished masterpiece as of this blog post writing. Sorry, guys. Thanks for trying.
Finally though the rain brought, my hero, Ryan, home and I was able to get much jonesed for run in.
I should mention now that my running of late has been going better. Taking a week off seemed to be just the ticket. Though, since the weekend-- when the stomach bug first showed up on my radar-- I have felt a bit off. Even still I managed 10 miles close to marathon pace on Monday. On Tuesday I wasn't feeling myself but hit the gym for my "how far can I go in an hour" treadmill run.
After a sad first mile at an 8:20 pace I cranked it out and got it done with 8.26 miles for the hour. And that was with taking a one minute walk break after the first 4 mile mark (which I hit in 29:20 something) because I was certain I was going to lose my breakfast and decided I was going to quit. But I rallied and decided I could finish out the hour. And I did. Overall average pace for the entire workout was 7:16 pace. An hour and half after the treadmill workout I had to take the kids to tennis. It was nice out and I was bored so I did an easy 4.5 miles. I think the average pace for that was 8:20 something pace. All and all not a bad day. Well, until I got the upsies. And the downsies. And the fever. And the body aches. And the chills. And two days where I thought for sure it was the end of me. And for part of the time I kind of hoped it was.
So, yeah, well that brings us to today. Friday. The day I willed myself well. I should have known my tummy was still a bit shaky but I ignored it and forged ahead with my coffee and Uncle Sam's--aka, NOT.A.GOOD.IDEA. Lunch was hard to get down too--brown rice, Lima beans and tomatoes. I don't know what I was thinking. But still I thought: I. Am. Better.
You, know, ignoring all those gurgling and quarters dropped down a pipe sound my digestive system was making.
I was fine.
So I went out for my run. Left Ryan with Carmella and told him to get Beau.
Yeah! Outside! Fresh air! My ipod! Me!
Ever the optimist I thought I maybe could do my 16 miler I was suppose to do on Thursday. I brought a Gu and $2, just in case. No water though or Gatorade. What? Why would I do that? That would be smart.
Ryan asked me how far? How long?
I said, I don't know. At least an hour, maybe two or more. . . hopefully.
About a mile in I was ready to turn back. My body was not right!
But I make no decisions in that first mile (or while running up a hill for that matter)--just my little rule.
I reasoned, well it has been 2 days. . . maybe I am just running too fast.
So I slowed down, my tummy threatening to rebel. As I reached the first of my 3 miles of uphills I considered walking but just tucked head and got through it, oh so painfully slow.
It started to rain and I worried about my new beautiful shoes and thought I should just do 6 miles. But then I thought about the 2 days I have languished in bed, dying and decided I needed to at least do ten miles to stay on track. So at the 3 mile I turned off to head into my 10 mile loop. And the tummy stayed there, on the vomit line but never crossed. I never felt great but it never got worse. At the 6 mile I was thirsty and licked my lips. Salt. Ugh. Gross. My spit was thick. Disgusting. Nothing was good. But with less than 4 miles to go I just plugged along and finished. Average pace was 8:42. Not terrible but 30 seconds slower per mile for the same run that I did on Monday and felt way less arduous. Really, in my mind, today should have been faster considering the 2 days of bed rest I had.
Do you count sick days as rest days?
I do. But maybe I shouldn't?
And so now I believe Carmella and guess that maybe she wasn't faking when she said her tummy still hurt. And maybe I even feel slightly guilty about that . . .
Sigh, I just want us all to be healthy!
Oh, one last thing. Since everyone thinks Beau is so funny here is the latest Beau drama, for your entertainment:
He has been an absolute pill the last week and a half at school, well and at home too. Mostly for his usual: talking too much, insubordination, being "wiggly" (seriously, that is what they call it). So I guess yesterday his teacher had had it and told him today he was being moved next to her at a desk by himself. Just so you know in the classroom they sit 5 kindergartners to a table. There are 15 kids in his class, 2 teachers. No one, but the teachers sit at desks. But in the older grades, they all sit at desks. Beau knows this.
The teacher however--for whatever reason-- did not at all inform me of this move. Beau did.
He enthusiastically informed me of it.
As in he had no clue this was a bad thing.
He was proud about it even.
This morning Beau came downstairs for breakfast and very excitedly told me that he was getting "his own desk" today. Next to the teachers, he informed me; nodding, smiling, brown eyes wide. All explaining why he jumped out of bed and got dressed lickety split for school. He had something to look forward to!
Carmella, having had the same two teachers for kindergarten and me, having had to sit at my own desk by the teachers when I was in kindergarten, knew exactly what this meant and that it was not good.
Carmella began by cataloging for Beau all the naughty children that had had to sit at the solo desk in kindergarten, many of who-- she furthered-- were still quite naughty in second grade. The desk, she told Beau, was bad news for him.
Beau tried to argue how he no longer had to share a table, emphasizing again, that he, Beau. Was getting his own desk. Next to the teachers even. You know, near the front of the class.
We tried, in vain to tell him this was not good. It meant he was naughty.
Beau wasn't listening, he was too excited for his new desk, his new position--you know, the one next to the teachers.
So I shot an email off the lead teacher explaining that Beau wasn't getting that the solo desk was punishment.
And this afternoon she shot one back to me that she tried making the solo desk "unpleasant as possible" for him by telling him stuff like his desk "had no table captain".
Beau may not always have all the sails of his ship flying but, come on. Everyone knows at a table of one you are always the captain.
She also told him his desk didn't have a number.
Now this would have devastated Carmella but Beau?
Any table that he is at is number one in his mind.
Numbers? What are those?
She also told him that he couldn't line up until she told him he could. Which I am sure this was the most frustrating part for him but I think kindergartners don't get to do anything without being told to do it. So really, how is that different?
So when he came home from school today I asked him if he was sad at his desk by himself. And he told me emphatically No! It was great! And best of all he didn't have to sit next to, I will call her Betty but that is not her name, anymore. Apparently Beau really doesn't like Betty. He has mentioned before that she is not his favorite but I didn't really pay attention. Apparently, she picks her nose and has bad breath. Which is weird the nose picking would bother Beau since he is a staunch nose picker himself but I think when it comes to girls he operates on a bit of a double standard.
So that was my day and what I learned today is this: I can't will myself better, Carmella doesn't lie--ever. And Beau? You just can't take that kid down. Unlike his Mama, he isn't going down for any count--ever.
Okay, Cat. I promise. Your post is coming. I am having title trouble.