One flu over the cukoo's nest

So, I woke up Sunday at one in the morning, doubled over in pain. Flashbacks of the labor where I DIDN'T GET THE EPIDURAL IN TIME kept going through my head. (No, I'm not bitter. Really.) It was pretty miserable.
I spent Sunday in a flu-induced coma, dreaming wild dreams. Don't you just love those kind of dreams? Really, it was pretty fun. I dreamed I was on a boat, and Chad and Connor were parasailing. I got kind of freaked out when I couldn't pull them in, though.
I dreamed that Jesus was walking through Walmart calling his disciples. As Peter abandoned his cart full of Christmas things, I thought, "Wow, it must have taken him forever to shop for all that stuff, and he's just leaving it behind." Maybe I need to read up on the true meaning of sacrifice if walking away from a cart seems like a big deal. :)
It's weird to listen to your house run without you. Of course, every so often Preschool C would come in to check on me, wake me up, and tell me that Daddy wasn't talking very nice to him. "Daddy said to pick up my toys, but he didn't say please." Preschool C is very sensitive to the injustices in his world, like if someone doesn't say please to him. I missed hearing my baby girl coo and see her smile.
But all is well today. My project: Use an entire can of Lysol spraying my house down. Bleach clean everything I can and keep the rest of my family from getting it. It's amazing how behind just one little day in bed can get you. Time to play catch up! Sweet dreams, my friends!