Kiddie Germs- Most Effective Birth Control

Saturday night, WH headed out to Unexpected Bill’s house. I didn’t want him to go, I wanted to spend time together since I’m out of town this weekend. I didn’t tell him not to go, I just told him I wish he wouldn’t. I didn’t go, because I was tired and a little hungover, and I had talked to UB’s wife and she said that their daughter had been throwing up for the past few days. I’m puke-phobic, so that sealed the deal for me. WH went anyway.

Tuesday morning, we both got up at 645am. I let Adicus out and sat down to watch the weather. WH went into my bathroom and retched his guts out. Yum! I held my breath the entire time I got dressed in there (after he had vacated the premises, of course) so as not to be exposed to pukey germs.

In an incredibly hard-headed attempt to preserve his sick time for fishing, WH went to work on Tuesday. That lasted all of about three hours, and he came home to await death.

I will stop here to give you just the tiniest bit of background. The barf phobia? It’s pretty bad. When I was a little girl, we only had one bathroom. My Mom commandeered it every morning for several hours to get ready for work, so when Daddy woke up to face his punishment for his love affair with the firewater, he just stood at the kitchen sink and hurled into the garbage disposal. I woke up a lot of mornings to the sound of Dad retching into the sink. I hate throwing up myself, and I think this stems from my inability to just give in and let it happen. I always hold it back, and it ends up coming out of my nose. I always puke twice when I puke- the first time because I had to, and the second time because I get so grossed out about it. Ever read Ramona Quimby’s stories? Remember the one where she sat at her desk in class and used all of her concentration not to lose her breakfast? “If I don’t move an eyelash, maybe, maybe….” Yeah, that would be me. This phobia also means that when WH gets sick to his stomach I vacate the premises, ya’ll. I’ll do a lot of things for the people I love, but any sort of vomit support is off the list. Even poor Adicus gets kicked outside for the slightest gag. There’s your background.

So I’ve been on Puke Watch 2008. Every time WH coughs, I jump, ready to head out…. somewhere. I’ve also been waiting to come down with it myself. Is somewhat inevitable, I guess. There’s a particular way I handle this anticipation: I quit eating.  Yeah, you read it right. I would rather starve and end up dry heaving than eat and puke. Why?

Because dry heaves don’t come out your nose.

Since Tuesday I have eaten: half a dozen saltines, a package of peanut butter crackers, a small bag of potato chips, a bowl of rice and chicken broth, a piece of dark chocolate and a tuna sandwich. B managed to force a yogurt smoothie and a blueberry muffin on me this morning. I think she’s had enough of my nonsense.

The scary part of PW2008 is that I can’t go see my Mom if I’m all pukey. Her chemo has been delayed- again- but it’s still not good for her to be exposed to the germs. I’ve had a touch of nausea and maybe some irregular, um, habits, but I haven’t tossed my cookies yet.

I’m looking at my word count. I’ve used 544 words before I’ve even explained why Kiddie Germs are the most effective birth control on the planet. I’ll use a few more to tell you that I was irritated with WH because he asked me to turn down a company paid dinner- with drinks- with the IT guys to come home and play Nursemaid. I’m no Florence Nightengale. When I’m sick I want to be left the hell alone, and when WH is sick, he’s a whiny needy turd. I love him, but I kinda hate him a little when he’s sick. I made sure to inform him over his chicken broth and rice that: 1. I told him I didn’t really want him to go to UB’s Saturday. 2. I didn’t go because there were confirmed puker germs in the house. 3. He went despite my wishes. 4. Getting sick is his punishment. 5. If he gets me sick I will kill him. and 6. Thanks for putting the whiny guilt on me to come home to this germ infested lair and wait for you to barf up the gruel I so lovingly made you, that you needed because you didn’t respect my wishes. Because I’m a bitch too, even when WH is sick. Especially if being sick is his punishment for not doing what I want him to.

At 766 words, I will resort to bullets to tie the post back into the title, and try not to be ashamed of my wordiness. Thank goodness WP doesn’t charge by the word!

• Kiddie Germs are ten times as powerful as any adult germ.
• The timing is always such that the kid gets better and starts climbing the walls as Mom and Dad are wishing for sweet death.
• Contracting a Kiddie Sickness will bring you to the brink of existence for three times as long as the kid was sick, thereby preventing any intimacy, except maybe the graphic explanations of bodily feelings and functions.
• The mere idea of some day having my own Kiddie Germ Host, and the distinct possibility that said host might puke makes me reconsider the whole Mom thing. Seriously.

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