The flu has hit our house and I would VERY MUCH LIKE FOR IT TO LEAVE

Still pretty damn gorgeous, sick and all.

Sebastian hasn’t been acting like himself for the past couple of days, and so when I found out last night that his grandmother, who watched him overnight this past weekend, had the flu, I was fairly certain that we would be experiencing that divine virus soon.

However, the idea of that didn’t stop me from staying up until midnight again because I can’t sleep when my husband is out of town as I rely on him to protect me from zombies and if he isn’t here who will stab them in the eyeballs?  I mean, I’ve got a shot gun, but if I shoot them that will just draw more to my house, and then what would I do?  Of course, there are a lot of asshole stray cats living around the neighborhood so maybe they would be enough of a distraction for the zombies.  And bonus: No more cat shit in my yard.  I hope they eat the one that beat up my poor, front claw-less cat last week first.

But anyway, I heard Sebastian whimpering at 3 this morning and when I went up to check up on him, he was almost in tears because he couldn’t find one of the stuffed animals he went to bed with, which is highly unusual.  Also, his whole body was on fire.  Literally, I had a difficult time touching him because he was so hot.  I picked him up and scrounged around unsuccessfully for the children’s Tylenol that I knew I had at some point upstairs in the kids’ bathroom. 

And then I put him in my bed downstairs and searched again for that medicine, but still couldn’t find it.  Hey, just a suggestion for everyone who is as disorganized as I am (which I’m guessing is NO ONE AT ALL), it’s a good idea to keep medicines and such in a place where you can easily find them in the middle of the night when your son has a 102 degree temperature.  Dumb ass.

I did, however, find some infant medicine that I’d just bought for Adele, and gave it to him.  He did not approve of the taste, and when I took him to pee about 10 minutes later, he also threw it up.  But at least he made it to the toilet and knock on wood I haven’t had to clean up vomit.  Yet.  I’m almost positive that is coming. 

And so we passed the night with me rubbing his back and him whimpering every time he lost his stuffed animal.  I think we both eventually slept, though fitfully.  In the light of morning he said “I keep waking up.”

Oh, speaking of vomit, I just this second remembered that my cat also barfed somewhere under my bed right after Sebastian did.  I did not clean it up as there is a limit to what I’m willing to do at 3:30 in the morning and that is way passed said limit when it would also mean I had to move Sebastian while I did it. 

If I wouldn’t get so grossed out at the thought of it being there I’d leave it until Chris got back as a special reward for him missing the past few AMAZING days.

Sebastian has spent most of the day camped out on the couch, heavy lidded.  We went to the doctor, where they confirmed the flu, and gave me a prescription.  While at the pharmacy I bought some nail polish and this:

The wine, not the flowers. Those came from my back yard.

Mama needed some medicine and also some nail polish to make me feel better.  It’s only been recently that we’ve been able to buy alcohol in this city, and I for one am going to take full advantage of it.

Word.

I also bought Sebastian a Power Ranger toy, which I disapprove of on principle, but when my weak, sick 3 year old asks for a toy, I am incapable of denying him.  I’m just grateful he didn’t ask for a trampoline.

He watched a movie when we got home and then I said it was time for bed.  And then he threw up all the medicine I gave him, the Gatorade I forced on him, and a half of a piece of toast.  But once again – and I can’t stress this enough – he made it to the toilet.

I told him to lie down in his bed and I’d come in and read him a story when I got Adele in her bed.  I was away for all of five minutes and this is what I saw when I got to his room:

Yes, it's blurry.  But let me describe it to you: he is asleep
under a feather blanket when it's almost 80 degrees outside,
clutching his new toy.

Guys, he’s never been this sick, and the doctor said it could get worse before it gets better.  I know it’s just a virus, but still.  I feel entirely ill-equipped to handle this situation.  I am helpless to make him feel better.  I get him cold compresses, I ask him over and over again to drink something, I hug him, I let him watch however much TV he wants, I hover and frown with worry.

All I want to do is take it all away.