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Sunday, September 2, 2012

Confessions of a Stomach Bug

So two weeks ago my kids came down with a nasty stomach virus.  You know the type - and if you don't, let's just say it was not the pukes.  I actually think my husband started it - but it is hard to tell since he seems to constantly suffer from bowel issues (at least that is his excuse for spending way too much time in the bathroom - he might be just trying to escape from his family for a while to play angry birds....)

Anyways, I totally thought I was in the clear...the kiddos seemed better, and my in-laws even offered to take them on Saturday so we could go out ALONE.....I know what you are thinking, and you are so right...

It was too good to be true.

After the hubster drops them off so I can leisurely get ready (which means getting to do both my makeup and my hair instead of choosing between them), we head to the mall.  As soon as we enter LLBean to buy our son his first backpack for Kindergarten, I feel that sudden rumbling that says all is definitely not well.  I try to ignore it, but it quickly evolves into that sharp terrible agony that doubles you over.  My hands feel clammy, my head feels hot, and I have this overwhelming sensation that everyone is staring at me.

After spending quite a while in their surprisingly homey bathroom, nothing happens so I think maybe it was a fluke.

Nope.

We leave LLBean and start to walk through the mall and suddenly - it hits me.

Hard.

Like, you better run because you might not make it, hard.

 Oh geez....

I book it to the nearest bathroom and run in.  The whole room already smells like death and I decide that it is a good thing - no one can blame it on me. The only stall open is the handicapped stall so I quickly shut the door and realize it won't lock....it won't even stay shut.

Great.

I wedge my purse strap in the door to hold it shut and do my business.

And do my business again.

And again.

And, yep, you guessed it - again.

At this point all I can think of is that scene from Dumb and Dumber...you know the one.  As I contemplate the similarities, I hear the flutter of annoyingly high pitched teenage girl voices speaking in French enter the room.

Oh God.

They start preening and gossiping in the mirror, while I sit dying five feet away with a paper thin wall separating us.  With giant cracks in the side of the door (why do they make them like that??).

They continue to babble away unintelligibly until I hear a phrase I can definitely decipher - "uugghh, blah blah blah....le pew!!"

That's right - they are saying that I stink....in French.

All of this wouldn't have been so terrible, after all, they had no idea what I even looked like....

And then my purse falls to the floor and the door slowly swings open.

Panicked, I try desperately to push it shut again with my foot....and I fall short by about two feet since the handicapped stall is the size of my garage.

Yep, here I am, a pathetic, disheveled, almost *cough30cough* year old woman... pooping my brains out....in front of all of you young, pretty, freaking French girls.

After I gather as much self respect as I can muster, I drag myself out into the mall again.

Only to run right back in.

And on our way home, (where I will spend the next three days discovering a new found respect for angry birds), I think to myself - hey, at least I didn't have the kids with me!

Yep, there is always that.   :)


2 comments:

  1. Bahahhaahhaha oh Samantha!!! I am so sorry but I'm dying laughing right now! I hope you're feeling better!

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  2. hahaha stace - it was so awful but now i can definitely bust a gut over it - man my life is ridiculous lol!!!

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