Warning: Not for the Faint of Stomach

Guess what?! No one is throwing up at my house. Hurray!

Peter and I both had twelve-hour incarnations of the bug. I would have to say that we were the hardest hit. Cooper's version consisted of him emptying the contents of his stomach once and then being fine. Well, he whimpered in his sleep a lot that night (I stayed in the boy's room with Cooper and Peter stayed in our room with Bryan, we used the divide-and-conquer method), but no more of his food returned for an encore performance. Bryan has felt ill and dizzy and generally rotten, but has held-out on the ickier aspects of the disease.

On Friday I was so afraid I was still sick I didn't eat any food. At all. I drank about five glasses of apple juice cut with club soda (so much better than sipping diet Sprite all day) from the time I woke up to when I went to sleep. The next day I gingerly added saltines, white bread, applesauce, and a banana to the mix. By Saturday afternoon I was feeling better, but I was so weak. Out of curiosity I counted up how many calories I had consumed the last two days.

Friday: 590

Saturday: 450

Hmmm... that's not enough. No wonder I felt like I might fall over. It was then that Bryan and I did something undoubtedly foolish, but oh so good.

We ordered pizza.

We worried that our stomachs weren't ready for all that cheese and tomato sauce, but our brains were so severely lacking in vital fuel that we went ahead and did it anyway.

I slept much better on Saturday night than I did the night before. I didn't realize that hunger had been waking me up.

I'm not sure where we picked these germs up, but I have a theory. Peter had his four-year check-up on Monday (yes, his birthday was in December, and yes, I am absent-minded enough that I completely forgot that he needed his annual check-up until March), and I suspect there may have been some unsavory germs floating around the doctor's office.