So, in my last entry, I mentioned a gastric disorder that would probably befall me in the near future. But as you all know, I was kidding.

Only someone didn't know I was kidding.

At 4am Friday I woke up and felt icky. By 7am, I knew the deal:

I had the damned flu.

You have to be fucking kidding me. After all of this, now I've got the flu?

Yes. Yes you do.

But that wasn't all. While I was in bed sleeping all day, the wife was tending to urchin 2.0 and getting 1.0 to and from school. Urchin 1.0 came home from school and seemed fine.

Until about 5pm. And she started barfing.

Alot.

She threw up about every 20 minutes from 5pm until roughly 1:30am.

And since I was still sick, I was tasked with handling that urchin while my wife handled the one month old. Neither were particularly appealing choices when there was only one of us for each, but we did what we thought was right.

I figured I could sleep in Lauren's bed with her and tend to the hurling, but that was not to be. She wanted the entire bed, so she told me to sleep on the floor.

And I did.

She (we) went to bed around 8:30pm, and she finally slept for more than 20 minutes straight at about 1:30ish. At 3:30, I managed to get tylenol and phenergan into her (and she kept it down). She then slept until 6am.

During this period I was awakened by the excrutiating pain in every joint in my body thanks to the late stages of said flu.

Oh, and did I mention that every time Lauren was awake she begged for water? You know, every single time? And that the begging was accompanied by very sad wimpering and topped off with a few big tears?

And there's no reasoning with a three year old about the effects of the flu. All she knew is that she wanted water, and I was the asshole that wasn't letting her have it.

So this morning, in lieu of burning everything anyone had touched in the previous 48 hours, we stripped the beds (again) and washed every stitch of clothing, Lysoled everything, and hoped for a better day.

But of course, I'm not holding my breath.