Calling in sick

Every Wednesday, my mom invites her grandkids over to her house to do something fun. Usually they do a craft project (my mom's an elementary school teacher, so she's got no shortage of ideas); sometimes they do an activity, such as sledding at Sugarhouse Park.

Rachel and I have decided that grandkids night for my mom is a good opportunity for a date night for us. So after Rachel dropped the kids off last night, she met me at a restaurant near my office for dinner. We had just finished our appetizer when my cell phone rang. It was our oldest daughter informing us that the youngest was screaming, and they didn't know why.

Our youngest has had the toughest adjustment to the move, so we weren't too surprised by this. She's been sensitive the last couple of weeks, to the point that she screams if I try to get her out of her carseat. She mostly just wants her mom.

We told my mom we'd be right there--Rachel left for my parents' while I had our server box up our entrees and paid the bill. By the time I got to my parents' house, everything was fine. So Rachel and I sat down at the kitchen table and ate our somewhat colder but still tasty dinner.

When we got home, my stomach was a bit upset, but I had taken some ibuprofen earlier, so I thought that might be the cause. But when my alarm went off at 4:30 to go skiing, I was feeling worse, not better. It's not uncommon for my stomach to bug me a little in the early morning, but it's usually fine by the time I'm ten minutes up the skin track. So I got dressed and went downstairs to try to eat some breakfast.

I couldn't bring myself to eat. Which is unusual for me. I thought maybe some diet coke and pepto would help. It didn't. In fact, I think it made it worse. I sat there for a few minutes hoping to get better before I realized there was no way I could climb anything this morning. Reluctantly, I sent dug a text telling him I wasn't coming. Then I went back to bed and laid there trying to decide whether it was better to deal with the gut-wrenching pain or to force myself to throw up. Even though the food tasted good, I don't think that restaurant will see repeat business from us.

Growing up, if I ever missed school because I was sick, I certainly wasn't going to be allowed out with friends later in the day. Too sick for school, too sick to play was the rule. What is it about being an adult that causes me to blow off skiing yet still be at my desk at 8:00?