Down for the Count

The flu bug has reared its ugly head once again in my home. I'm good, but my sweet husband is one miserable man. He has fever, chills, bodyaches, sinus pressure, and incredible pounding headache that won't go away. Maggie hasn't seen her daddy since Friday and probably won't at least until tomorrow. The two of us are going to watch first grade basketball and cheer on Josh Krieger, and then she's back to Ga Ga's (she spent the night there because Mom wanted her!) so I can enjoy my girls dinner without the toddler. Bringing her would mean frequent trips to the potty to possibly pee but more importantly play with the water in the sink and see what color the soap is.

So poor Andrew is out. He's napping now, after his first Neti Pot experience. I apprehensively asked him how it went, knowing that the only other person I know that experience the Neti Pot was Amy. And I remember how that went. I think he faired a little better.

So far, the little Munch hasn't even so much as sniffled. Maybe because she was the only one of the three of us that had the flu shot? Could be it. But the last flu shot I had gave me the FLU! And not just the flu. The I'm-nine-months-pregant-and-about-to-have-this-baby flu. I gave birth to Allie with a darn oxygen mask over my face because I was so ill with the darn flu. But, given that it's been four years, maybe I should rethink my opinion next year and have the shot. Because this has not been a fun experience for the two of us. Not fun at all.