Maybe Karma is a Bitch

O.K. universe.

I GET IT.

This is where the story starts.

One Saturday evening in late January, Paul and I went out to dinner with our friends Jenny and Denis. We had a fabulous time, dined at an amazing restaurant, drank great wine, and engaged in sparkling conversation. We laughed. We gossiped. We spoke of the economy and the state of jobs in Ottawa. They asked Paul if he felt his job was secure. We both agreed that we felt it was, given information we had and recent happenings at the company.

On that very same night Jenny and Denis also mentioned their Christmas vacation, and highlighted a nasty stomach bug that they and their family had contracted while out of town visiting relatives. I nodded sympathetically . . . having dealt with the stomach flu on more than numerous occasions in my own household I could relate and understand how unfortunate this would have been . . . and explained that we were so fortunate not to have had such a pesky virus since last summer. We left our good friends on that cold, blustery winter evening and went about our lives.

In less than a week, Paul lost his job and the FIVE of us contracted a nasty, grueling stomach virus.

You'd think I'd learned my lesson.

In the month that followed we dealt with the fallout from five of us being sick with the stomach bug, and then moved on to develop several horrible colds, chest coughs, and Thing 3 even managed to come down with pneumonia and get rushed to the hospital. By mid-March, however, things were looking up and we were all on the mend. It was around that time that my mother, who was vacationing in Florida, called me one evening over the school break to "check in" and see how we were all doing.

"Are any of you sick?" she asked. Because that is a question you pose to all mothers of small, germ-infested children in the winter. Praying that the answer is not "yes".

"NO. NO. NO. We are all doing well, we are healthy and happy and our winter blahs and illnesses are a thing of the past," I proudly proclaimed.

In less than six hours from that phone conversation, Thing 1 woke up in the middle of the night - sick as a dog - and proceeded to spend the next twelve hours vomiting non-stop. Yes, speaking of us being well had seemingly brought the curse of the flu back upon us. Thankfully it was over in about 48 hours, and the rest of us escaped relatively unscathed.

Fast forward to exactly 28 days later. I was at a craft night with some friends on Friday and the discussion evolved into stories of sick children (what a freaking exciting life I lead). The hostess mentioned that her son had the stomach flu, and that she had cleaned everything carefully so that no germs would be left on any surfaces around her home. I laughed, delving into my story of woe and how we'd already been SO sick this winter that it was virtually impossible for us to get sick again.

WRONG.

Thirty days - almost to the hour - from the last time Thing 1 was sick, he woke up in the middle of the night with another stomach bug. Yes, the dreaded "moooooommmmmmyyyy, my stomach hurts" to which I respond by hurdling out of bed like an Olympic athlete so that I might make it to him in time before a big mess ensues. And here we are at close to almost 24 hours of diarrhea and vomiting. Add to this the fact that Thing 2 woke up with a horrible cold and Thing 3 was a teething, screaming banshee today, and you may begin to realize that this is one mama who is close to losing her mind.

Universe : 100
Crafty Mom : -25