This week has been a roller coaster of a week, so writing posts that are even remotely coherent has been difficult. It all started Sunday. (I did say a week…but I will keep it brief…mostly). It started off normally, we went to church (wow, my auto correct changed church to cup hutch…really?) and everyone was fine. Sir Smiley headed off to work and I got the kids down for a nap and was cleaning (okay, I was playing World of Warcraft…shhhhh don’t tell!) when Sir Smiley calls an hour after he left announcing he didn’t feel very well and was coming home. Weird. He will work through eminent death before he will call in sick. Queue ominous music in the background. He makes it home after pulling off and barfing all over some apartment building’s parking lot. No! Not the stomach flu! The bringer of woe matched only by the zombie apocalypse. You disagree? Then you must not have children still in diapers who cannot communicate the need to race to the facilities and usually manage to aim their spew of vomit at the most difficult things to clean or barring that..your hair. I HATE the stomach flu. This is of course the same week we’re suposed to have a bazillion people over to our house for a Christmas party too. People would not appreciate being exposed to a virus that spreads like wild fire where all you have to do is look at a person who has it and you are instantly infected. I was not happy. Oddly enough, his came with a runny nose and a cough as well. Fast forward 24 hours and his stomach is fine, but he has a head cold. Turns out he had food poisoning and a head cold at the same time. I tried to show sympathy but was unsuccessful at hiding the relief that the stomach issues would not spread. I can handle head colds. Then the kids get it. But if course when kids get sick, it does not make them sleep more or make them want to lay in bed like normal people. It seems to give them MORE energy…more aggravated and angry energy. So they start hitting, yelling, crying if you look at them, crying if you ignore them, crying because they’re hungry, crying because nothing in the kitchen will satisfy their tastes….you get the picture. So I deal with them while Sir Smiley is bed ridden for literally 24 hours and is left in a weakened state. He has to hide in our room as he recovers because our sick, wired, aggravated children can sense weakness and will use it. Finally everyone seems to be getting better. I was came down with the sniffles but was definitely feeling better by Thursday and I cheerfully prepared for our party (which was a blast if you were wondering…and I did disinfect the entire house because a head cold was not a party favor I wanted to send home with our guests.) Then comes Friday. (which I guess was technically yesterday, but since some of you may read this later I’ll pretend I did that on purpose.). I felt sick as a dog. (where did that expression come from? My dogs are rarely sick and never seem to act the way I feel when they are). I couldn’t breathe through my nose and it was runny on top of that so I spent the day walking around with kleenexes up my nose. (which King Toot thought was great fun to try and grab…like a game.). Oh awesome. I have a triathlon in the morning andI am dribbling out of every opening in my face. But Sir Smiley recovered in a day or so, so I refused to give up hope. Alas, that hope failed me this morning. I could finally breathe out of my nose…but it had now settled in my chest. So to sum up, I swam 400 meters this morning, then biked over 12 miles and ran (er….walked too) over 3 miles…all without being able to breathe without hacking. The fact that they didn’t cart me away in an ambulance is probably the greatest achievement I have ever…achieved….and I am quite proud of myself. Now to drug myself (I think the kids still have running noses…perhaps they need some benedryl? Kidding…kind of…) and sleep and hope that tomorrow is better!