Yuck. I mean it. Yuck.

Having the stomach flu when you already have children is a bad freaking choice, I tell you what.

After all of the little things you do for your kids in that day-to-day battle called "keep your children alive... it's the law", you'd think they might be willing to show even the slightest modicum of consideration in return.

It would seem, though, that this is asking way, waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much.

Toddlers don't care if you were up all night puking your brains out.  Toddlers still want to play and still need to eat and may very well still poo themselves just to top it off. (Thanks a whole lot for that by the way, Sweetie.  That wasn't hard on Mommy's already queasy stomach at ALL.)

And newborns, as a matter of fact, seem to be able to sense this weakness and feed off of it.  "You're distracted and unhappy, aren't you?  PERFORM AMAZING FEATS TO KEEP ME FROM SCREAMING MY LUNGS OUT IMMEDIATELY OR I WILL SCREAM MY LUNGS OUT."  I assume this must be the thought process, because something certainly turned my normally easy-going baby into a cantankerous little fuss-budget.

This thought always makes me laugh at those stupid teenagers who want to have babies because they want someone to love them unconditionally.  Okay, maybe not laugh, that speaks to a pretty serious place of need, and that's like, ridiculously sad.  But let's be honest, babies are the kind of people that respond to the worst day of your life by pooping in your lap.  They don't make life easier, they aren't terribly fun on shopping trips, and five bazillion couples can contest to the fact that they will NOT fix your marriage.  Babies are self-absorbed, screaming little poop-machines.

Self-absorbed screaming little poop-machines that I love very, very much, mind you.

Side note, if you think I talk too much about poop, then I can say that you have not yet met any children.  Or at the very least, I can say that you have not yet met MY children.  They're adorable, but my goodness can they ever bring it.

Anyway, I'm writing this today because I actually feel better, and the "wanting to die" sensation of the last couple days wasn't conducive to anything more strenuous than frequent napping.

In other recent news, my husband noticed my new profile picture (seen below) and decided to comment.

"Where is THAT picture from?  You look really skinny there!"

Which I think begs the question:  Is a complement given 1 year late, when it's 20 pounds no-longer-true, still a compliment?  Ah, what the heck, I'll take it.  I find I frequently look better in retrospect anyway.

Happy Sunday y'all!