Yesterday I was petty happy with how my schedule was playing out. No, I did not get my carcass out of bed when I wanted, but it was early enough that I could get some yoga and mobility work done. Mobility is very important, especially now that age and fibromyalgia are playing a major factor on my training and daily life.
My intent was, once the girls were put down for the night, I would make up some lost workout out time from the morning and hammer through my Invictus Masters Program. Who would have thought that at 2pm that would all change. I got a call from the daycare saying that Elizabeth was puking up a storm. So, like a responsible parent (after a bit of swearing under my breath) I packed up my things, informed my boss of the situation and went to rescue my kid. When I got there I was handed a plastic bag with all her puke ridden clothes and a sick child. Great…. Poor Elizabeth.
I got her and Lilly home after Elizabeth puked in the car. I then got Elizabeth in the house and proceeded to tuck her in on the couch so she could watch some Muppets. Her tyrant sister had other ideas and soothing her sister was not one of them. This made the next hours long and arduous. Nothing worse than seeing your one toddler in distress from being sick and the other not giving a shit.
I was still hoping that once everything settled down and the girls were put to bed I would still have my mommy alone training time which would consist of throwing weights around in the garage gym. Ha, not likely.
I proceeded to put Lilly to bed and had Elizabeth on the couch. Lilly was crying for a bit then she settled down. When I checked on her she was in Elizabeth’s bed as hers was filled with puke. How can a little kid produce so much vomit? It is not normal! My heart sank….oh no, round two. Although, I have to say, it was smart thinking on Lilly’s part moving to her sister’s bed. Elizabeth wasn’t there, Lilly’s bed was out of commission, so why not use it for the interim. Genius.
I had just stripped and changed Lilly’ bed when she decided to.projectile vomit all over the bedroom carpet. Three times. All I could do was stand and watch. Oh and hoped she didn’t get me in the process. Sigh…..
Now I am cuddling two sick monkeys and my night’s training is slipping away. An hour or so had passed. Lilly was now on the couch, Elizabeth was comatose in her bed. I steam cleaned the carpet (pretty proud the kid stayed asleep during the process) and was satisfied with the result. I headed back to spend time with Lilly watching a Disney movie.
Thirty minutes later it was my turn to upchuck. For the next couple of hours me and the porcelain had a close relationship. All I can say is I hate throwing up. It gives me comfort to know I could never be bulimic because of this hatred.
Finally Mike got home. I did a hasty turnover of the night’s events and headed to bed. I remained in the fetal position all night. I don’t know what super powers that puke bug had, but not only did it kick the crap out of me and took.me down for the count, it put my fibromyalgia into high gear. For 24 hours I was laid out on the couch in the man cave (yes Mike allowed me in his domain 😊) in excruciating pain. It was one of the worst bouts yet. It was just a few hours ago I dragged myself out of bed. All I can say is if it wasn’t for friends, neighbors and my awesome husband to give a hand I would have been in the hurt locker more than I already was.
The intentions were there to train but I guess I can say I had a descent excuse.