How was your weekend? As is inevitable, on of the first questions you hear upon returning to work after any kind of break is "how was your weekend"? Nobody really cares. They're just making conversation while waiting on the elevator. The obligatory response is "fine, and yours"?

Well, if you care or don't care, I'm gonna tell ya anyway.

Got out of the shower Friday morning (6:30 A.M.) to find my wife hunched over the toilet violently vomiting (due to the repeated use of the phrase "violently vomiting" I'm going to substitute "VV"). I left for work, to be bombarded by the same asinine redundant "project" that I have been assigned to for the last year. Receiving numerous phone calls throughout the morning and early afternoon from wife stating more VV.

Last phone call regarding VV was at 2:00. I left the office early (2:30) so that I could be a good husband and go home and take care of my wife.

My wife will be the first to tell you that my bedside manner regarding sickness is not what would be referred to as top notch. I make sure that the lights are out, you have your medicine, the TV is off or at a low volume, you're as comfortable as possible, then I leave. Hell, I don't want to catch whatever the hell it is that you have.

Normally a member of the family being sick would not be an issue. Just another sick day. But with wifey's trade show starting on Tuesday, Friday is not a good time to be coming done with a mysterious illness. Backstory: The same thing happened last year, except the order of occurrence was different. First it was junior, then me, then the wife. One right after the other.

Last thing we wanted was for the entire house to be sick. Ever try to keep a 2 year old away from his mother? It ain't easy. They don't understand the concept of "mommy's sick". They don't understand that they can't be in the same room because you don't want them to get sick as well.

Went to the pharmacy to pick up the called-in prescription to try and ease the nausea and help her sleep and possible eat something without having said meal spewed back at great force and projectile accuracy.

All day Saturday wife stays in bed, trying to sleep, recover, eat, and generally feel better.

Saturday night.
Junior has been in bed sleeping for about 3 hours when this weird noise starts emanating from his room. Not the normal "I'm awake come and get me" noises. Not really whimpering. Kind of a cross between crying, whimpering, and gargling. And my immediate thought is "shit"! Now he's got it too. Luckily, after having consulted the pediatrician on call, we were advised to share mommy's medicine (at a lower dosage) with the boy. So I leave the two of them to sleep in our room and head downstairs to make myself comfortable on the couch.

I don't care how happily married you are, invest in a comfortable couch. You never know for what reason or for how long you may end up sleeping on it.

Sunday everybody's starting to feel a bit better. I got lucky and did not get sick this time. Must have been all of the alcohol ingested that kept the germs at bay and allowed me to carry on through the medical ward that my house had become.

Monday and it's back to work, back to daycare. Normalcy sets back in. And the inevitable question is asked, "How was your weekend"?

And I answered.

"Fine, and yours"?


  ¶ 10:00 AM