Sparkle!

Please bless this home with sparkles and multi-colour shoes.

Things we do to our children.

For example, the things I do to mine.

Friday was a short day for me. Christmas party at work, a luncheon with ‘games’ and in my excitement at leaving work early I planned just a few extra things. Things that, in retrospect, should have just been ‘fit in’ on their own day. I was a wee bit determined though and we all know what that’s like.

Xmas photos at the mall (in the tropical thunder-storm that hit the area?! Sure! No problem!). Late night trip to the grocery store (late being 7 pm). Dinner at 7:30. Bed at 8 pm. This is all very unusual for all members in my household, especially the dog. I think he relies on routine and gets confused when things don’t go according to his plans.

I stayed up way later than everyone else.

And thought about things.

About the lady I met in the photo studio last night who exchanged Iphone apps with me. Thanks for ‘Hatch’! Her son was roughly the same age as V and I couldn’t help but notice that she was loosing her hair. She was much older than I am/was/will be.

Whatever that means.

Anyways…

About the photographer that made the most interesting noises I have ever heard in order to gain and keep Little Man’s attention. Good job! I didn’t even know those noises existed! And how do you learn them? And oh, how I don’t want to ever be a photog working at a place like that.

About how crappy driving in the rain is here. It might be the equivalent to driving in the snow on Vancouver Island. Despite the fact that it rains here a lot, no-one still knows how to drive in it. Hence my Island reference. Re: snow.

About how letting Little Man stay up until 8 pm equals me getting to sleep in until 9 am. Not such a bad thing.

Anyways, we got home late. The only thing he wanted to eat was banana and milk. Who am I to argue with him? We were waaaaaay beyond that point. We were at the point of  ‘nobody matters at all’,  least of all Mummy. At least he ate.

And Sunday was the same… but slightly more of ‘Things we do to our children’ and ‘What the hell were we thinking!’.

Both of these topics seem to come up rather often.

We went to Downtown Disney. For those not in Florida, it is a cute area, on Disney property but not attached to any of the parks. Movie theatres, shops, Lego stores, McDonald’s (apparently an essential), it’s all that kind of thing.

It was a no-nap day. Just a light snooze in the car, followed by french fries and chocolate milk (which is the hugest treat ever). V, in his sweater, had the run of the place. And then M had the brilliant idea to see if he liked cotton candy.

Well, he does. And sugar gives him energy despite the lack of nap.

We got back to Hunters Creek around 4 pm. And then home, after a stop at the grocery store around 5 pm. And what did we buy at the store?

A roast. Because on a Sunday night, around 6 pm, this is clearly the perfect thing to slide in the oven. At the time we were discussing it (3:30 pm) it was! And sounded so delicious!

When we got home (5 pm), and put it in the oven (6 pm) it seemed like the beef was a dream. And a stupid dream at that. We had sushi for dinner while the roast cooked.

And we had Roast for dinner tonight. Way to plan!

Things I thought about today…

About how demanding people are. Is it an American thing? Not sure, but the kind of screaming that I face on the telephone is the equivalent to a toddler tantrum. People pout and fight when they don’t get their way. To be honest, it’s rather annoying. I would rather V have a temper tantrum in the middle of a busy street than talk to some guy who can’t understand why his post-nasal drip isn’t cause for National Concern (sometimes you can just hear the capitals).

Or why we can’t see you ‘right now’. Or why you can’t  ‘just come in and wait….. it will only take “5 minutes”‘. Pretty much this is every conversation that I will be having until years end.

About how I missed my BF Shanaenae* today at the office. Naenae, you know I need to see you every day.

It’s moving into that time of the year. Yes, that’s right. It’s Nature’s Menstrual cycle. Everyone gets bitchy. And the closer it gets to Xmas and New Years, the worse it gets for all of us making appointments and doing things of other Nation Concern to random people. Bastards.

How I felt sad that V ran into daycare this morning without a care in the world. I literally was like “Oh. Ok. Um….. Um. I guess I’ll go now…” Meanwhile V is happily playing without a care in the world with another little boy. My feelings were just a little bit hurt. Just a little. *sigh* Ok, a lot.

But miraculously, I felt waaaay better this afternoon when I went and picked him up and he immediately dropped everything he was doing and ran to me. And then clung to my legs.

THAT’S what I want to see!!!! Pure dependency!

All it does is cement that my little man is growing up. And that, probably, I need to have another baby.

Lord, please bless this home with a feminine child.

Mumma needs to buy sparkly shoes for someone…

*Girl, I am only using your Ghetto name for privacy reasons….

Epic Lighting

As this Christmas season pulls up, M and I are gearing up for ‘YAY!’.

With our first house, we both really feel like we can really put effort into outside house decor.

So.

We went to Home Depot. And then to Lowes. And then back to Home Depot again.

Eventually we emerged with lights. The selection of lights involved us breaking out the calculator app on M’s crap phone to estimate if our choice was a ‘good buy’ or not. It was. Only took 35 minutes to decide upon.

We got home, V went down for a nap and M broke out the big ladder and started hanging lights for the FIRST TIME IN HIS LIFE.

And I watched him FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE.

We have no idea what we are doing. Other people on our street have such nice displays, we are rather jealous. How do they do it? Do they plan? Diagrams? Blue prints? What exactly?

Anyways, we just went and bought some stuff… And some hanger-ish things.

We had a few issues with, well, lots of stuff.

And so I was sent off to Home Depot to ask ridiculous questions while M made festive beef stew for us to enjoy in this cold Florida weather.

Ridiculous Question #1: “Where do I find a double ‘male part’ extension cord?”

Ridiculous Answer #1: “Um. They don’t exist. Did your husband hang the lights up backwards?”

Me: “Maybe. I don’t know and I am not going to ask.”

V was currently on one hip, runny nose and one sticky finger up one nostril (Yay discovery!). My other hand was clutching a few packages of window clings. I was wearing slippers.

Ridiculous Question #2: “It looks like we are going to end up with some dangling male-parts hanging from our roof. I don’t want to leave it so exposed. Is there anything I can insert it into to protect it?” (I was actually talking about extension cords. I realize I should now not ever use the term ‘male parts’ ever again)

Ridiculous Answer #2: *blank stare*

Ridiculous Answer #3: “Just use some tape.” He then shook his head and walked away.

V, our window clings and my slippers left Home Depot quickly. I called M.

“Hey. It’s me. It doesn’t exist. Ya. Next time, YOU get to ask… *click*”

Our lights are slightly crooked and not as beautifully blue-printed as some of our neighbours. And there still are ‘dangling male parts’ hanging off of my roof.

Looks so gorgeously amateur, it really couldn’t look any more beautiful.

xoxo a.m.

Neb Ninja

Just another post about nebulizers. This must really get boring for you to read about, but seriously. I have to vent about them.

Back at the Dr suddenly last week (due to a awful cough), we are back on the neb, different medication and 2x a day treatments. Discussing the previous issues with the nebulizer with V’s Dr, she offered some options. Try something different but slightly similar, or try the neb again. Since he was literally an angel taking a treatment at the office, I felt confident that we would be able to continue this at home!

So Tuesday night, treatment time and again, so well-behaved. I was in shock. Lollipops really work!! Is that all it really took? I can’t believe I scoffed at them and their magical powers, without even really giving them a chance.I was thrilled with his behavior. I bought a huge bag and happily planned things that would work as ‘distractions’ while we did treatments.

Day 2 of the ‘treatment’ didn’t go so well. We only managed 1 as opposed to the 2 we were supposed to do. But I figured that was better than nothing. And his cough was loosening up, he didn’t sound that wheezy, so not so bad.

Day 3? Forget it.

Disaster.

M did treatment in the AM and we double-teamed in the PM. Apparently my ideas of ‘distractions’ collide with reality:

Sesame Street.

Elmo books.

Gluten-free chocolate chip cookies. Lollipops. Squeezey fruit packs (Celine, these did not go over well). Juice boxes. Giving neb treatments to the dog (not really), Daddy (ditto) and whatever was nearby.

Please picture reality colliding with all of these things and then exploding all over them.

This evening he cried until he literally was red-faced. As soon as I let him escape my lap and those feet hit the carpet, he clapped his hands. He was so happy to be free from the neb. He clapped and clapped.

I might have commented previously on how V has taken the trait of ‘stubbornness’ from both M and I, so it’s multiplied. Not such a good thing. As evidenced every time I try and hold his hand when we cross the road. He not only doesn’t want to, but crouches down and tries to pull his hand out of mine. This results in a lot of crouches and stopped traffic.

Man. Nebulizers are exhausting. How on earth I am expected to fit these into a day, I don’t even know. I feel overwhelmed.  But concerned at the same time. I want to make sure that Little Man  is a healthy beast, but.. well…. I think I really should just be feeling grateful that this is the most dramatic of health issues that we are dealing with at the moment. Other familys are dealing with so much more…

And I can think of one in specific (Joa xoxo), so it easily puts my health issues in the backseat of my crappy Hyundai. And lets them just sit there. And maybe have a juice box since they are cranky from being on the back burner(ish). Juice boxes make everything better.

Oh Nebulizer, how we want to love you. Can you just please love us back?

xoxo a.m.

Mist

Today I took the Little Man to a paint store. Sherwin Williams, to be exact. It’s a few blocks from our house and I am currently in the process of trying to eradicate all traces of the previous owners. The owners who apparently really liked the colours peach (and all shades there-within). The interior of my rooms look like someone vomited flesh all over them. So. Awful.

Manhattan Mist. Much nicer…

I love paint colours. Mostly just the names of the colours. So awesome. Wasabi breeze. Pine nut. Mint haze. Etc…

Anyways, Mist is what I picked for our bedroom. I sampled last weekend. Just a few spots. Alright….. I tested every single wall. Which made it tricky to not paint it in a timely manner…

Anyways. V and I went to the paint store. Unluckily there were a few people inline a head of us.

This was just bad news.

For the first 5 minutes this was not a bad thing. V ran around the store, found some buttons to push and he appeared to be having a good time.

Yay!

Let’s hope that this line won’t take too long.

Guess what. It did! Because the people in front of me had some trouble deciding on what type of paint they wanted. Even though they had been there way longer than I had. And had ample time to make decisions. Clearly no-one is as prepared as me. Colour sample swatches, paint decisions… I am ready.

V was too. He ran.

He found things on the floor to put in his mouth. He ran behind the counter to where they mix the paint. He ran back and forth in front of the door alarm, setting it off endlessly. He put more things in his mouth. Things he shouldn’t put in his mouth. Like screwdrivers. Rollers. Scrapers…. and other ‘paint’ utensils. Whatever he could get his hands on.

I literally could not keep my hands on him. Suddenly I felt like one of those ladies that I have seen around, with those kids that they can’t control. I might not be able to control my child.

Luckily the only people there thought he was adorable. And then they left before he had his tantrum.

Which was an awesome one, by the way. In case you wanted to know.

We left approx 45 minutes later. With paint. One major tantrum. A few extra pieces of garbage in my pocket (pulled from V’s mouth). Those rollers that he had put in his mouth.

We exited the store to the words “Wow, those little dudes sure have a lot of energy”.

This was coming from a girl of approx. 17 years old. Made me laugh.

So how do you do it? Police a child in a store full of pointy, chemically things? V is fully asserting his independence and will not sit in a stroller for extended periods of time. He also wants to dash into people, traffic, other peoples parked cars (that he likes to pat) and generally away from me. If I make a move towards him, he runs away. With a cheeky look on his face.

Argh!

Child of mine is a rather trying at times. But cute. So I don’t mind. I have this feeling that he might be taking after his mother right now. A cute pain in the ass.

Mobile

That baby sheep in the middle, who looks like he's about to make a dash for it? That's mine...

 

The continued adventures of a mobile child…and his mother.

I might as well be his entourage, as I am always behind him. Currently he moves like rapid fire throughout, well, everything.

This afternoon we (I) decided to take a walk with the M.C. and the dog. Now, in hindsight, I shouldn’t have taken the dog, but the poor thing is just so desperate for any attention that he practically attached his own leash and walked himself in his eagerness to spend time with me.

So dog in hand, V and I went a’walkin’.

I had thought just to go around the block.

1/25th of the there… Oh look! Garbage! Mumma! Shall I pick it u…. oh. you got it for me… Thanks mumma.

1/24th of the way there. Oh look! The dog peed right there! Right there, Mumma… I think I’ll go over and walkright on top of it. Oh wait….. WHEEEEEE! I love it when you pick me up and swing me around!

1/23rd of the way. Mumma, there’s something out there in the street, I think I’ll go and get it.

1/22nd of the way. Mumma, there’s something out there in the street, I think I’ll go and get it.

1/21st of the way. Mumma, there’s something out there in the street, I think I’ll go and get it.

1/20th of the way. Mumma, there’s something out there in the street, I think I’ll go and get it.

1/19th of the way. Mumma, there’s something out there in the street, I think I’ll go and get it.

So this short walk that I wanted to take took FOR EVER.

I ended up with so many random pieces of garbage in my pocket. Rather in my pocket than in V’s mouth. And the poor dog. Mid-poop, V did a dash out into the road. I tried a ‘grab, bag and run’. And had no option but to stuff that filled poop-bag into my pocket. V was, at this point, in the middle of the street and giggling madly. Chewie was still in mid-squat but no-longer on the grass (poor dog). I had poo in my pocket. And some random Halloween garbage.

Half way back we encountered an awful combination of other dogs, other people and the road in front of our house. just the sight of this road is enough for Little man to do a fast dash for the middle of it. Collapse when I try and pick him up. Cry. Thrash. Cry some more. And then, at this perfect time, everyone in the neighbourhood walks their dog or turns onto our road and tries to park their car.

But can they?

Nope.

No, they cannot.

And why you ask?

As my child is having a tantrum in the middle of the street, effectively blocking any passage down it.

Hi neighbours! Please watch me parent my child in public! Please don’t judge me too much…

www.clusterflock.org

www.dadcentric.com

And if you are, go to the above sites and judge them too….

 

 

 

17

17 months, that is…

And it is a most interesting number. And a most interesting, um, adventure for Mummies and Daddies. You know who you are (or were).

It recently started with the word ‘No”. And then was followed by “Mummy, no. I don’t want to hold your hand”. This was communicated by, well, mostly grunts and, um, annoyed looks.

Someone is in the middle of asserting his independence and is not enjoying the doubts that Mumma is having regarding his decisions. Such as decisions regarding crossing a street without holding onto Mumma’s hand. I am pretty sure that all of you reading (ie my Mum and possibly my mother-in-law) realize that I am right.

Could you please tell V? Since he is currently a non-verbal Italian, he just stops in his tracks and squats down, trying to pull his hand out of mine. Since I am an emotional Canadian, I can read his body language.

I think all he wants to do is careen madly down the sidewalk, looking slightly tipsy as he bounced back and forth on our various neighbour’s lawns. I think he hears the name ‘V……’ and the word ‘No’ and reacts accordingly.

A few major temper tantrums have been introduced. Mostly involving him having a ‘fit’ (and very loose terminology is used here),  throwing himself on the floor and mostly smacking his head while doing so. Which induces crying. And so then I pick him up. And then he struggles with me holding him. And then I put him down. Repeat. Repeat etc etc.

And so life is interesting.

And my Mum is laughing. I know she is, as she was laughing earlier while I was complaining about this. I figure its divine retribution. I know I was  a pain in the ass. And I know M is a pain in the ass. And so the equation.

M+J=V(pain)2

Our respective mothers are peeing their pants laughing right now. Busting a gut (in a refined manners… as I know they are lovely ladies and all). Still. So tired.

xoxo a.m.

Nebulizers suck

Oh please... who's child sits like this for treatment! Come on!

Can I just say I am frustrated?

Damn. It.

Several months ago when V was sick, it turned out that he was mildly asthmatic. So darling Dr E recommended a nebulizer and to start ‘treatments’ when he had attacks.

Attacks? Almost never, unless he has a cold, which is where he is right now.

So last night he woke up crying and coughing and I rushed upstairs to comfort him. He was coughing and then crying. Nose running all over the place, cough and crying in spurts. And just with the most miserable look on his face while this was all going on.

So out came the nebulizer as he sounded pretty wheezy. And that’s where my evening got awful.

Wail, scream, wail, scream, shriek shriek shriek. I think that is baby talk for “Mummy, I hate this thing, the way it sounds, looks and smells…. basically everything about it. I hate it.”

Yup. He hates it. I think it made him cry more.

Eventually I got him calmed down and off to bed.

He slept all night. Woke up early despite the late night, coughed on and off all day. Ate BBQ with Mummy, Pop-Pop and Gramma.

Went to bed like an angel and woke up about and hour later with exactly the same symptoms as last night.

And so 30 minutes ago we went through the same routine. Except I thought I was being clever by being prepared.

I got a juice bottle. I prepared a dish of snackies. I brought the nebulizer downstairs. I put on Sesame Street.

I. Was. Ready. And I felt awesome about it…

V did not. Total repeat from last night. Except worse and with a snottier nose. And more crying. And just worse all around.

The neb and him are not a fantastic team.

8 months ago there was no problem with it. He would happily eat snackies while the nebulizer was pumping away in front of his face.

Now, not so much.

Any tips on making it tolerable?

(besides lollipops and doing the treatment while he sleeps– who are we kidding, neither of those work)

But any tips are greatly appreciated…

xoxo a.m.

Nugget

(of poop)

There they were, waiting for me on the changing table as I carried my squeaky clean V from the tub back to his bedroom…

*sigh*

Not only nuggets, but an open dirty diaper.

….flashback to a few hours earlier….

On my way home, I called M for a quick chat.

“How was your day?”, I asked as I gunned it down the expressway.

“Oh. It’s been better”, he replied in a wry tone.

“Oh?”

“I am in the middle of doing something horrible……”

Not picking up on the wry tone, my mind headed in the worst directions possible… mortgage payments, things to do with money, hot water tank leak, smoke detectors going off, awful things to do with the house…

“V gave me a present”.

This is parent code for ‘loaded up the pants’, ‘made a brownie’, ‘dropped the kids off at the pool’ or any number of other expressions (that I am sure your husband/brother/male member of the family will be happy to share with you, while they snicker that is…)

Oh men, so dramatic. You’d think it was the end of the world.

It must have been though, if I was to find remnants of it an hour later. Apparently it was epic. And there was screaming and thrashing involved during changing time. Good stuff.

….flash-forward to present….

I was sure. So sure. That life was not going to throw feces at me tonight. All signs pointed to a ‘dodge’, especially considering the previous conversation with M.

I picked that poop up, deposited it elsewhere and snuggled that Little Man within an inch of his poop-filled life….

Mumma loves the baby.

Yesterday

Yesterday I had a ‘1994’ experience.

Gluten-free blueberry pancakes and MacGyver (oh how I love you and your clever ways) were how V and I started the morning. I made itty-bitty  sized ones (mix by Pamela’s, best Gluten-free mix I have tried so far). Babies and pancakes are a good thing. Babies and blueberries are not. Did you know if Blueberry pancakes hit the (beige) carpet at a Toddler-throw velocity, there will be  a stain? Perfect illustration as to why one should get hard-wood flooring. (This has nothing to do with 1994)

Post-pancake and MacGyver-fest (I felt like V was significantly impressed with MacGyver), we were off to Grandma’s house.They were planning on hitting up SeaWorld with the Little Man, leaving me and the Big Man at loose ends.

We need a new coffee table. Our weenie wicker one just was not doing the job in our HUGE new house. We had things picked out to check out at American Signature furniture. We happened to drive past World Market. Well, it just happens that its one of my favorite shops. So we thought we’d stop in and check out their furniture.(Again, 1994 this is not)

Suddenly, mission accomplished. Coffee table spotted and purchased. With a discount as we purchased the floor model. Anyways, it is huge. HUGE. We borrowed the stores tape measure and went off to measure the trunk of my hatchback. Pretty much we had no idea what we were actually measuring. We were pressured by the sales staff to make sure it would fit as they said they would hate for us to buy it and then find out it didn’t fit. Like they really care. And like we care as well!

We were determined to make it fit.

It didn’t.

We tried harder.

It still didn’t.

Regardless, it was coming home with us. Precariously balanced in the back of my hatchback, I climbed in the back of the car, braced my legs and held onto that table with all of my strength. As I was getting situated in the back, a woman walking by said “Oh, I have so been there so many times!” and smiled.

I smiled back.

So have I.

And then I had a flashback to sometime in 1994 when an ungodly amount of girls climbed into my friend R’s little red car. I think it was a Hyundai. Or a Rabbit. Regardless, it fit 8 that day, several of us were in the trunk and that car was a low rider.

Not sure where we were going, but damn we had fun getting there.

Oh 1994, how I loved your fishnet stocking, plaid flannel shirt/jacket wearing, hand-painted combat boots stomping, always angry, black lipstick (1 week only) clad, Pearl Jam thrashing ways.

As I clung to that table, laughing and smiling while M drove down the expressway and that cool Autumn air blew in the back of my little red car, I was suddenly transported back to the Island. High School. My lady R. Oh friend, I miss those silly times.

Clutching that table, suddenly that simple little table shopping trip turned into so much more. A High School mini-flashback. A 10 year deduction from my birthday (leaving me in my 20’s). A big ol’ smile. Some slightly cold fingertips. A trunk filled with dried leaves. And one cheap blanket from Ross that only cost $5 was it was sold bundled up in packing tape that took me about 15 minutes to removed.

Trunk packing. Didn’t care.

Autumn and Fall,  you are the same but slightly different and I love you both…

Fever times 2

16 months in and my first experience with a really, really sick little boy started yesterday…

All in all, not too shabby. All we’ve had to deal with prior has been food allergies, allergic reactions, mild asthma and lots of poop. Ok, looking at that list, let me revise that  ‘all we’ve had to deal with’ comment, that kind of made it sound like parenthood has been a cake-walk over here.

Really what I mean is that this is my first experience with scary high temperatures, scary lethargy and projectile vomit (Exorcist-style).

V woke up yesterday a wee bit warm. Babies are warm in the morning, so I didn’t think too much of it. He ate all of his breakfast, drank his bottle and just was a little quiet. I took his temp, it was 99 degrees…a little ‘ping’ of concern hit me, but again, he’s been warm like this before so I figured that it would go away once he was more active…

I WAS going to make Canadian Thanksgiving dinner Sunday for all my peeps in Orlando. We were also supposed to be going to see Elmo at UCF Arena in the afternoon. So we had things to do and so off we went to do them. Whole Foods (that I might leave M for and marry in a legal, binding ceremony) and Ikea. Done and done.

On our way there and back, he dozed the whole time. That ‘ping’ of concern started to ping a little louder. As I unbuckled him from his car seat and picked him up, he was really really warm. So warm, in fact, that when I handed him to M once entering the house, he immediately said to me “Wow, hes really hot, you aren’t going to Elmo, are you?”, to which I replied “No. Not at all” (although secretly I really wanted to).

I gave him some infants Tylenol and took his temperature.

103.2

What. The. Fuck. (Pardon my dirty mouth, but seriously, what the fuck!)

That is one high mothering-fucking temperature! So high that I remember using temperatures like that as bragging tools when I was in Elementary School to illustrate how sick I had been. “Ya? Well, my temperature was 103.4 and my Mummy said I might die. DIE!!” (I tend towards the dramatic). I tried not to remember that as I calmly said to M “We are going to the walk-in clinic”.

He calmly replied “OK, I think that’s a good idea”.

In reality both of us had cartoon steam-whistles on our head and steam was shooting from our ears. And my body might have become an ambulance. At least that’s what I told myself as I did 75- 1.000.000  (miles per hour, folks) down the expressway to the Pediatric clinic.

An hour later, I emerged with V and my awesome in-laws. Who are awesome and met me there, at the clinic (M called them) and stayed with me the whole time. Again. Awesome.

Influenza type A. And an ear infection. Antibiotics and Tamaflu (which makes me think of Tama-chan, that seal that swam into the Tokyo Harbour and became a national icon [I have a Tama-chan doll somewhere]).

The rest of my evening was not awesome. I went and got the meds filled, drove home, medicated V up. He remained hot. In-laws returned with food (M was at work). The rest of the evening was a blur of trying to force food and fluids on Little Man. Mostly fluids.

He cried non-stop and was so hot I swear I could have cooked something on his forehead. At about 9 pm he projectile vomited all over the place and as I went to pick him up, he threw up down the front of my tank-top. Wonderful. Hot and shivering at the same time, I stripped him down and washed him down in the tub… the rest of the evening was a blur.

We finally got him settled down with some fluids in him and he went right to sleep. Poor baby was so exhausted.

I went to bed too. Poor me, so exhausted….

Actually, I went to bed on the floor of V’s room. He made so many little noises and I woke up and trekked into his room with every one that finally I made a make-shift bed from a duvet and the pad on an Ikea chair and slept with my hand on the edge of his mattress.

Fever all night long. It finally seemed to break around 2 am… and we both slept.

And did I mention that M came home from work with the stomach flu?

Our home is a bubonic plague zone right now. DO NOT COME OVER.