A Tale of A Christmas Wish

It's nearing the end of Christmas Day 2013. My children are in bed an my husband is sitting comfortably on the sofa watching Dr. Who. All is right in our little world. At least it is at the moment.

Turn back the clock 48 hours and you would find a very different picture. 

At 3:30 am on Monday morning I woke with the kind of pain that in any movie is only caused by alien parasites or demon possession. That doubling over, gripping your fists, wake you up like a boot to the gut pain. Hopefully I have made my situation clear. Turns out I had a bit of that nasty old stomach flu that Has been "Going Around". Off to the bathroom went I to do what needed to de done to calm the beast. Just when I returned to my bed, cold, sweating, shivering, I heard a commotion down the hall in my kids room. Rather than have them wake their dad I went to find out what was happening. I came upon the two headed to the bathroom. The 4yo needed to throw up and as reported by the 6yo had possibly already done so in the bed. I felt like the exact opposite of someone who had just won a mega-lottery. 

Anyway, off I went to take care of the kids and investigate the incident in the bed. Sure enough, the bed needed cleaning and both kids were wide awake. I set them up in the family room, removed the soiled bedding, and then went back into the bathroom to be sick several more times. 

My favorite moment or possibly just the most notable was later in the morning. Just after I experienced a rather violent wave of diarrhea, I attempted to leave the bathroom only to be hit by an epic wave of nausea that I attempted to control with the classic hand over mouth move. Unfortunately, the pressure behind the hand was more than it could contain and the contents of my stomach found another route, pushing it's way out my nose. That's not the best bit though. There's more! After the job of cleaning up that mess was complete. Left shaking, and I'm sorry to admit, crying, I turned for my smartphone which was on the counter next to the porcelain god to which I had been praying. I reached for it with my shaking right hand and that damn phone leapt from my hand and took a dive into the toilet! As if it had a will of it's own. I swear it! 

The next moment happened in slow motion and went like this- 

I yelled "NO!" 

Reached into the dread toilet of sick (recall I had just cleaned the bathroom and flushed several times, but still YUCK!), removed the device, and hearing my sisters words in my ear I quickly turned off the device and attempted to dry it as best I could. 

Then I performed the only sort CPR I was capable of. I entombed my dear phone, my lifeline, in a ziplock bag filled with large white rice. Fingers crossed drying and not dying.  

So here is my Christmas wish. That my smartphone live through the trauma as the 4yo and I myself have somehow done. That the technology gods smile upon me this Christmas and allow the phone to survive to see 2014. Please.....