Not Everything Should be a Tradition

Warning: Not for those who have weak stomachs or don't like to read things that are too personal.

I am not up at 1:49 A.M. because I have insomnia, I am up because I am sick.  

I thought I might be sick earlier today but wasn't sure. I have been asleep on and off most of the day.  Some of the naps lasted over two hours, others for thirty minutes.  I tried to eat, but nothing sounded good, and my stomach hurt.  I couldn't decide if my stomach hurt because it needed food or because I was sick, but in the end I did not give it a lot of food.  

I also couldn't decide if I was sleeping because I was sick or because I took Alteril last night. I was chilling and feeling bad due to exhaustion before I took the Alteril.  So I won't know until I take it when I am not already having issues.  

I managed to wake up enough to watch some television tonight, and it was during these shows that I realized how nauseous I was and that I was still chilling.  I finally decided to go to bed, but just as I headed that way I started feeling worse, so I took the precaution of putting a plastic bag lined bucket next to the bed.  

I laid down but felt horrible and each moment seemed to bring on a new symptom. I finally managed to dose off a little bit only to wake up and realize I better grab the bucket and for good reason.  I thought I would never stop needing the bucket.  After cleaning up, I decided to sit up on the couch.  

As I sat down on the couch I had a flashback to my childhood.  My mother believed that if you regurgitated (not allowed to say "I threw up" at my house), then you needed an enema.  It was how her mother raised her, and according to Mom it always cured them.  This horrible tradition of cures lasted until I was in 4th grade and old enough to fight back using the enema bag as my weapon.  I thought it was rather an ingenious battle.  My Mom did not.  

I used to use that story of getting an enema when I was sick to let my boys know what a great mom I am.  I would tell them "Hey, at least I didn't give you an enema every time you threw up."  See, I didn't even carry on the tradition of using "regurgitated."

I am just glad Mom didn't carry over all of Grandma's traditions or I would have had been downing a lot of Castor Oil as a child and putting a blanket on my head when I sat outside so bats couldn't get in my hair. 

It is a miracle that I am not weirder than I am.