I spent the entire night battling a relentless wave of nausea. As I lie here, feeling utterly miserable, I can’t help but reflect on my disdain for the stomach bug. In fact, I’ve devoted several chapters of my unpublished manuscript to this topic, but let’s set that aside for now. The first publisher I approached wanted to know my target audience, to which I replied, “Moms who despise stomach bugs.” Unsurprisingly, they weren’t interested. But trust me, there’s a silent majority out there!
Now, as I lay in bed, I can only plead my case—because guess what? We’ve been exposed. It’s a full-blown crisis. The dreaded stomach bug has infiltrated our lives.
When I heard the news from daycare that my son had thrown up, I reacted like a character in a war film. Imagine the devastation—a messenger delivers the news, and chaos ensues. This is how I felt when that poor daycare worker called me on Monday. She tried to console me, but I think she’ll reconsider that approach next time. There’s got to be a better way to break the news that your meticulously organized life is about to spiral into chaos.
As I lay here, my world is crumbling outside my bedroom door. My husband, Ethan, is incredible—he can juggle work, change diapers, and keep everyone fed. But he just doesn’t see what I see. The kids keep sneaking into my room, and I hear one of them say, “You can’t go back in there! Mom is really sick!” In my current state, I can’t muster the energy to scold them. Maybe they should be warned.
Laundry is piling up. The little ones are crying. My head is pounding, and nausea is my constant companion. And yes, I blame you.
You know who you are, average-sized family. One or two of you were sick all night, yet you still decided to venture out, attending that community potluck. You stumbled in looking like you’d just come from a horror movie, and placed your questionable macaroni salad on the table. When I asked if you were alright, you casually mentioned, “Oh, my husband and kids were sick all night! But the girls were so excited for the potluck, and I had to lead choir practice and teach Sunday school. I’m feeling a bit off myself.”
My instinct was to grab that untouched monkey bread and hurl it your way. But instead, I made a hasty exit. I gathered my kids, left the casserole behind, and signaled to Ethan—this was an emergency. He tensed, scanning the room, and in a flash, he grabbed the diaper bag and hustled us out the door. We had to escape before the germs could take hold.
As we screeched out of the parking lot, I noticed one of our kids chasing after us. I yelled to Ethan, “Just go! We can’t afford to lose anyone else!”
Unfortunately, we weren’t so lucky. By day four, I succumbed to the bug myself. Now, from my makeshift sickbed, I grapple with my frustration and my faith. So here I am, using my last ounce of strength to deliver this message: if you’ve spent the night vomiting, do the world a favor and stay home. You do not need to be out in public. The world will continue to turn without you.
You’ve effectively dismantled my household with your careless actions. I will recover—I’m sipping Imodium like it’s a fine wine, and my medication is finally kicking in. I will sleep, and someday I may even forgive you for your reckless behavior that led us here. Until then, I’ll be buried under mountains of laundry, waiting for the carpet cleaners, and mourning the lost days of my life.
And I’ll envision you, clinging to your porcelain throne, perhaps catching a glimpse of my reflection in the water, wishing you had chosen to stay home.
So, next time, please—stay home. It’s for the best.
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Summary
This article explores the chaos that ensues when a stomach bug strikes a family. It humorously narrates the author’s distress over exposed germs at a community event and emphasizes the importance of staying home when unwell. The post ends with useful links for readers about home insemination and fertility resources.
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