Best.Diet.Ever.

Before I get into the meat of this story, let me just explain to you that I have a relationship with my scale.  Sometimes it's a good relationship.  Sometimes it's not so good.  I weigh myself [almost] every morning.  Yes, I am one of those.  Yes, I might be happier if I weren't shackled to my scale.  But I prefer to know I'm entering into fat ass territory before I go to put on my jeans in the morning and realize I have to lay down on the bed, suck it in, count to ten, hum the national anthem, and pray to get them to fit.  So, yes, I am one of those annoying weigh-every-morning type of people. 

I weighed myself last Friday morning, as normal.  Noted the number.

I didn't weigh Saturday morning because I was too busy being sicker than I've been in years.

I'm not exactly sure what happened but I have a feeling it involved Chuck E. Cheese, that den of germs and ick.  We went last Monday.  Thursday afternoon, the boys were tag teaming me with their Linda Blair impressions.  Friday night, shortly before midnight, it hit me.  I spent all of Saturday being absolutely, positively miserable.

Do you know the only thing worse than being sick and having to take care of three children?

Being sick and having to take care of three children, one of whom is also sick.  Yep, Karis got the crud too.  She and I were both sick on Saturday.  She still had a touch of it on Sunday and Jaidan had a resurgence of it on Sunday as well.

Yesterday, for the first time in four days, no one in my house threw up.  I cannot tell you just exactly how amazing yesterday was. 

So, I spent Thursday through Sunday either being sick myself, taking care of sick kids, running sick kids to the bathroom, being thrown up on, cleaning up vomit, cleaning up numba-two accidents, or doing laundry.  You don't even want to know how many loads of towels, bed sheets, and puked-on clothes I washed over a span of four days.

But.

There is a silver lining in all of this.

I stepped on the scale Sunday morning and realized that I managed to lose four pounds since Friday.  Monday morning, another pound was gone.

No exercise, ya'll!
I could eat whatever I wanted -- I didn't, mind you, but I could have.  (We still don't really have appetites!  The kids just picked at lunch and dinner yesterday and my stomach may grumble from time to time but absolutely nothing sounds good to me).

I tried on a pair of jeans yesterday afternoon and *gasp* they were a little loose.

Basically, I spent a couple of weeks watching what I ate and exercising like a mofo when all I really had to do was go lick the slide (or something) at Chuck E. Cheese and pick up a few germs.  Sure, being sick on Saturday was miserable.  But it was only one day.  The one day diet.  I can deal.