More than anything in the world, I hate

throwing up. OK, maybe that's a slight exaggeration, but I really really really hate being sick to my stomach. There are other things I hate more, like real disease, terrorism, crushing poverty....you know, things that really make life difficult.

Wednesday night, we were at the beginning of a long weekend. The older two spuds were off from school and the little guy only had to go in the morning, so we were going to have pizza and watch a movie after the scout meeting that Daddy and the oldest had to go to. But middle spud suddenly didn't feel good and asked if he could put on pj's and lie on the couch after dinner. This kid never does that. Never. So we curled up on what we call The Sleepy Chair in the family room and watched America's Funniest Home Videos. Why people crashing dirt bikes and falling off a skateboard onto their heads is funny, I'll never really understand but somehow it's still entertaining. I could feel the poor guy getting warmer and warmer and when I took his temperature at bedtime it was 103.5. Yikes! He took some Tylenol and was asleep before his head hit the pillow. So I was feeling a little tired myself and decided to just to go bed early. I fell asleep pretty much right away.

At 11:00 or so, I woke up and something just didn't feel right. Couldn't put my finger on it, but I just felt....strange. The thing that was wrong made itself clear about 20 minutes later and I spent the rest of the night back and forth between bed and the bathroom. Matt complained of a stomachache when he came up to go to bed shortly after I got up the first time. Then around 12:30 or baby spud came in, crying and saying, "I frowed up in my bed." Then it was a merry go round of taking turns in the bathroom. Interestingly, middle spud with the fever was perfectly fine the next morning. I, however, wished for death.

Thursday, I dragged myself out of bed long enough to go to teacher conferences for the older two spuds....both were good....then I crawled home and laid on the couch whining and moaning for the next 12 hours or so. Baby spud missed his school pictures in the morning. He was all dressed and ready to go, seemingly feeling better, then he frowed up all over his nice clean sweater. He was recovered enough to go in the afternoon and smile for 15 seconds, then come back home to lie on the couch with me, moaning and watching old Looney Tunes.

I feel 1000% better today and even went out shopping with my awesome sister and my awesome niece and her adorable kids.

But man, I don't know if I can adequately express how much I hate being sick to my stomach. I think I'd rather have the swine flu. Blech.