Wednesday, May 3, 2017

Puke-Ocalypse happened. Again. IT happened again. One would think that in a house with children that 1 time is normal expected even, 2 times should be chalked up to bad luck and unlikely to happen again, but 3 times?! Three times seems absolutely ridiculous and extremely inconceivable! Well, color us unlucky with shades of inconceivable because we are currently recovering from our THIRD bout of stomach flu this school year. I'd put up a fight and boycott or form a picket line or something along those radical lines but I'm too damn exhausted; and quite frankly, I'm a little nervous! I mean, I've just been beaten for the third time. Three strikes and you're out, people! No one should be allowed to try again after failing so miserably three consecutive times. Not once have I acquired a victory in this war against the puke-a-palooza!

Clearly, I've been outmatched. Clorox, Lysol, essential oil concoctions. None proved able to rid my family of this pestilence and none were victorious in protecting me, MAMA, from suffering the same fate of the germ-wielding petri dishes I lovingly refer to as my offspring. I'm hosting a freaking puke and diarrhea festival over here complete with the Spinning Wheel of Explosion Poo, the Untrustworthy Fart, The Up-Chuck Station, and the Roller Pukester! The rides won't cost you much: a bottle of useless disinfectant and your ability to control your own gag reflex. Feel free to ride as long as you'd like. However, I warn you that nary a person has exited a victor from the Puke-capades ala Momdom. You really do "Enter at your own risk" when you step foot in this Castle of Vomit.

In full disclosure, I actually have only personally fallen victim to the Vomit Fesitval the most recent time. However, who do you think is responsible for cleaning up the aftermath, aftershock, and collateral damage incurred from the torrential downpour of unauthorized exit of bodily fluids?! I was bound to catch something- whether it was from before, during or after the Poo-Pocolypse! I've put on quite a brave and confident face through all of the malady, and truth be known, I was starting to get a little cocky. To successfully dodge two rounds of consecutive pukes must mean I've developed some kind of immunity or super hero powers of some sort. I clearly must have been the Chosen One! Only...I wasn't. Pride definitely came before the fall. And oh the horror that is to come when mama succumbs to the unmentionable!

Round 3 came guns a blazin' with a multitude of assaults. It's shock and awe assaulted both the southbound and northbound lanes of traffic on all victims. Truly, my posse couldn't trust a fart for about 2 weeks! And since no child has ever been known to listen to the advising parental unit as to what should and should not be consumed during these bouts of tummy troubles, the assault seemed to go on and on and on and on. Heed my words! Stick to bland and boring foods and liquids! My children seem to insist on learning this life lesson for themselves eating a vast array of foods and drink while in the midst of the pukes- all of which made their presence known as they vacated their poor little unwilling bodies. The horror that has occurred in my bathrooms is downright throne abuse. And mama? Mama gets to clean it, do it, clean it again.

I'd like to throw in the towel, but we all know that as mama I'm not afforded that luxury. I wanted to walk away; every man for himself, but I was already afflicted with the plague before I attempted an escape. So the couch and a bucket held me hostage for two days as I floated in and out of consciousness hoping my offspring would take care of me. They didn't. They stayed quite clear of me and my yuck, and I can't totally blame them.

Alas, we all survived and have lived to fart another day! Onward we will march...until the next round of germs renders us incapacitated. Until then, peace out and never underestimate the luxury of fearless farting!

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