Why did I think this was a good idea?

Clearly I am crazy and unable to learn from my own mistakes!

I thought I would do a 3-day master cleanse this weekend (and Monday) and get ready for the HTA on Tuesday. Well. It's Day One, hour two and I'm already feeling insane!

The LAST time I tried this was August 2007 and it made me feel so crummy that I quit on the first day, which actually was good because it turned out that I was pregnant with Ben at the time. Whoops!
This time around, while I am assuredly NOT pregnant at all in any way, I still feel light-headed and generally crummy.
I'm not sure that Master Cleanse is a good thing for a mom with three little kids to try. What if I pass out and they draw all over me or burn the house down or clog the toilets up with dishtowels and Thomas the Tank Engine toys????

Yeah, I think I better not do this....
Maybe this summer....

I am falling apart....UPDATED!

UPDATE: Good lord, karma has bitchslapped me in both ears!
So, I go into town, drop Elizabeth off at school and head over to the Urgent Care place as my ear is throbbing.
Within the hour the diagnosis is in...double ear infection. OR, and I quote the doctor, "That is the worst ear infection I have seen all day."
In fact, my LEFT ear was the one bothering me, the doc looked into my RIGHT ear first and didn't say a word, but rather made this noise "Eeeeeek" then said "and that's the good one?"

Yeah....karma. See, remember how on Christmas Eve Benny had a double ear infection and I thought he was just teething and Bob ended up taking him into the doctor's office where they probably made the same noise...."eeeeek!"

The doc prescribed me a Z-pack and mucinex (and THAT took TWO HOURS TO FILL AT WALMART!!!!) and that was that.
While WAITING for the damn medicine it got so late in the afternoon that I had to leave Walmart to pick up Elizabeth from school and then go back. That is like a 10 mile trip from Walmart to school and back. Grrr.
As I'm running out of Walmart (after having spent almost TWO HOURS THERE WAITING ALREADY!!!!) my right ear starts to feel like it is a balloon filling up with air and then the stabbing pain began on THAT side of my head as well.
Now both my ears feel like they are stuffed full of cotton. FAN-FRICKING-TASTIC!!

So I go get Elizabeth, rush back to the Walmart, grab the prescription and get the hell home. The whole drive my head is pounding and I very much want to crash the car into a tree to REDUCE my pain.
We got home, I shuffled everyone inside, Ben is WAILING for food and killing me at the same time.
I grab four ibuprofen and a glass of milk, because the first pill of the z-pack is burning a hole in my stomach by now, and sit on the couch with Ben and feed him.
Once he's done, he goes down for a nap and I grabbed a hot wet towel and pressed it against the now throbbing RIGHT ear....it instantly feels better. Just for good measure, I poured myself a double shot of whiskey and slugged it back ASAP.
Goooooood lord...that was about a half hour ago, and the searing agony is now down to a dull ache, though everything still sounds like I am underwater. Fabulous.

And that's my day...omitting the part where I got into a screaming match with a dipshit construction worker (not Bob) on the side of the road because he was parked IN THE STREET!! IN THE TWO LANE TWISTY STREET!!! Yeah, I left there and called the sheriff out to deal with them. Ass faces.

********End of Update*********

My cold has traveled into dangerous territory. I now have a wicked nasty ear pain and I can't hear at all out of my left ear, constant nausea and a dry hacking cough. All this added to the stuffed up nose, headache and all over malaise.
I'm a mess. Bob is at work, and I have to get my act together somehow to face the day and take care of the children and drive Elizabeth to school and not die in the process. I really just want to take Nyquil and go to bed, but those selfish days are over. I have to suffer now, because I'm a mother. Feh.

Also, last night Dylan was jumping on my bed and hit himself in the face. Now HE has a black eye. A real nice shiner.
So yeah, we're quite a pair.

You're not dying, you just can't think of anything good to do

Ever since I told my mom that I couldn't go to kindergarten one day because sadly, I had been infected with malaria, my mom has called me a hypochondriac.
Whenever she does I just laugh and laugh...until the laughing dislodges what is assuredly a blood clot in my brain and gives me a headache. Then I lie down, for awhile, with the phone in my hand ready to dial 9-1-1 as the bright light gets closer and closer.....
Ahem...anyway...

Lately I've been getting more and more convinced that I am indeed a raging hypochondriac and not actually dying from a rare and incurable disease, though it is still likely that I am.

The last month or two I've been getting these terrible nosebleeds. I mean, like crazy gusher nosebleeds. Like, I need to sit down because I feel woozy sort of nosebleeds.
Thus far I've been able to control them easily at home, indicating that there is no underlying severe medical problem causing the nosebleeds...or is there??

I just got my second nosebleed of the day and immediately (after I stopped bleeding of course) Googled the condition.
After reading all the home care tips and probable causes for my seemingly endless string of nosebleeds (dry air!) I decided that despite the reassuring text on the internet, I am probably afflicted with the least likely and most horrible cause of the common nosebleed: nasopharyngeal cancer of course!!

And I decided this with a click, like this:

Hmmm, seems that it's just the dry air and air conditioning that is causing these...oh wait, what's this? Cancer?!? Click click. Oh yes, that's it. That must be it.

Hey, if I'm going out, I want to go out big!
I'm such a silly beeyotch.

Monsters in our tummies

I had a baaaad feeling all day at work yesterday...so when the call came in at around 3 pm that Elizabeth was puking her guts out and could someone please pick her up and get her the heck out of here (not in so many words), I was less than surprised.

Two days before that, Dylan puked in his crib over night. We woke up Wednesday morning to a baby covered in puke. Gross does not even BEGIN to describe that scene.

I just figured he got sick from the cold medicine cocktail we had given him before bed, cough medicine + ear infection antibiotics + motrin for the unbearable baby sized pain.

Nay.

Apparently, he had what his sister got yesterday, raging crazy stomach bug.

Bob was the closest to the daycare that afternoon, so he picked up the kids, calling me along the way to let me know that Elizabeth was puking all over my car (he had my car because earlier that morning, I slid it into a ditch on an ice-covered road, but that's a whole OTHER story).

Yeah! Puke in my car!

I assured him he could handle it, and warned him not to give her anything to eat or drink until I got home with gallons of Pedialyte.

He called later to say that she had "tricked him" into giving her a Capri Sun, which she was currently harfing into a bucket.
Nice.

"Don't let her trick you!!" I admonished.
Though, she is hard to resist and she IS building quite a career out of trying to talk us into things...or at least attempting it ad nauseum until we break down..."Fine FINE! Here's the damn Capri Sun! But you're gonna puke it all up!!" I imagine that's how it went.

I raced through Safeway flinging the various components of the B.R.A.T. diet into my cart along with the Pedialyte. I dropped my last $20 on the stuff, money I was glad I stuffed into my jeans pocket that morning since I had forgotten my wallet at home for the second time this week. Geez! I better not be pregnant, 'cause that's total preggo brain right there. I'm probably not, calm down.

Anyway...
I get home to Elizabeth hunched over a bucket spitting up foam. Bob is beside himself with craziness and Dylan has smashed his head on the coffeetable, giving him a nice cut, bruise and band-aid to hide his injuries from CPS.

Dylan went to bed not long after I arrived, Bob went back to work on a side job.
I felt confident that I would not get sick, since I had survived thus far! I even bragged to my mom over the phone (all while I'm getting more and more tired and not noticing) that I felt "Great!" just fine.

Yeah...instant karma really got me.
An hour after getting off the phone with mom I was doubled over with stomach cramps. Elizabeth and I holed up in my bed where I repeatedly called Bob with grocery orders and requests for an ETA:

Get me ginger ale!
Ohhhhhh, get me ginger ale! I'm dying! When are you coming home? Are you leaving yet? Where are you? Hurry!!!

By the time Bob got back, all three of us were passed out in my bed - Dylan included. Bob put Dylan back into his crib and handed out ginger ale, Maalox and encouragement before retiring to the couch to try to avoid the sickness.

Elizabeth and I were up on and off all night, puking, taking sips of drinks and writhing in crampy agony.
I was getting the chills and sat in front of a space heater and Elizabeth came over to me, put her arm around me and said:
"You gotta monster in your belly? You're cold? Sit here. Warm your butt up."

As she patted me on the back, I almost felt like I WOULD get better.
But no.

I'm still cramped up. Elizabeth seems recovered.
Dylan is crying, but otherwise fine.
He just dumped soggy frosted mini wheats all over himself and the sight of it is making me want to puke. Gotta run.