The Benefits of a Stomach Bug

The Benefits of a Stomach Bug

I almost titled this The Benefits of Barfing but I didn’t want it to sound like I was encouraging purging after eating. If you’re struggling with Bulimia that is a serious issue and not something to be joked about. There are also people out there who can help. In this particular case I’m merely attempting to find some humor in the misery of the stomach bug. When you’ve been sick for over 12 hours and you’ve lost track of the number of times you’ve worshipped the porcelain goddess you can either succumb to the horror or find a way to laugh. I’ve swung back and forth between the two. But in the moments where I managed some semblance of joy, I did come to a few laughable conclusions.

  1. It’s a great ab workout. Forget Pilates or the gym, barfing is a total ab workout! There’s nothing quite like your abdominals contracting so tight your entire back hurts and you can’t breathe while watching random colors spewing from your mouth.
  2. It motivates me to clean the bathroom. I pride myself on being a very neat person until I have the stomach bug. Suddenly I notice every little filament of hair and speck of dirt in the bathroom. Not to mention the ring in the toilet I swore I’d already removed. I managed to at least clean the toilet bowl and do a little dusting. The rest will have to wait.
  3. It’s a great excuse to eat whatever. If the all-fruit, no-added-sugar popsicle is coming up then so is everything else. I might as well enjoy the taste without the calories. And you get to taste it twice. Bring on the McDonald’s! (Totally joking. Ugh, excuse me while I puke again.)
  4. It reminds me to chew better. I don’t think this requires any explaining.

All joking aside, I would not have made it through the day without my Father-in-law. Luke was on his way home from a trip so I would have been solo-parenting while yaking. On the one hand, it’s super cute when O pats my back. (“Pat, pat mama.”) However, keeping her hands out of the toilet isn’t so easy. I may have failed once. My FIL was at my house nearly the entire day with O so I could sit in the bathroom and barf in peace. He’s a life savior and I am so thankful!

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Those Aching on Mother’s Day

Those Aching on Mother’s Day

I love Mother’s Day. I love scrolling through social media and seeing all of the smiling faces, beautiful flowers, messy breakfasts, and chocolate covered strawberries. Because Motherhood is HARD and goodness knows we deserve a day to celebrate all that we do. Continue reading “Those Aching on Mother’s Day”

The Glory Days

The Glory Days

I struggle with being content. It’s something I’ve always battled with but in the last year I’ve become much more aware of the degree to which discontentment looms in my heart. It’s not that I am more discontent now than before. I just notice it more. Because in the professional world I could remove the label “discontent” and replace it with more admirable titles – ambitious, driven, go-getter, or one of my personal favorites, goal-oriented. I could focus that discontentment on the next award, the next promotion, the next success.  Continue reading “The Glory Days”

The Messiness of Motherhood

The Messiness of Motherhood

I was catching up with a friend the other day who I hadn’t talked to in ages. We knew each other in a former life. By former I mean career-driven-pre-kid (and for me, pre-husband) life. Now we’re both in the beautiful, yet challenging, trenches of motherhood. She started off the conversation by saying how amazing and fabulous I make motherhood look. I literally laughed out loud. The majority of the time I feel like a failure. And what she couldn’t see was on the other end of the phone I looked like a mess. I was standing in my kitchen with my hair in what once resembled a bun, wearing yoga pants and no makeup. I’d also yet to shower since returning from working out. Points for at least making it to the gym, right? Continue reading “The Messiness of Motherhood”

The Fall

The Fall

Parents warned me it would happen. A bed, a counter, the couch, or some other raised object. Eventually, Olivia would experience her first fall. I nodded in agreement while silently thinking it wouldn’t happen to me. After all, I don’t leave my baby abandoned on the kitchen counter and I watch her when she’s on the bed. Certainly she would never fall. But like nearly every other thought I had about parenting, I was wrong. Continue reading “The Fall”