"It" has hit our house. Regardless of precautions, regardless of injections, regardless of how much I didn't want it here, it is.

Husband has The Flu.

He's had the seasonal flu shot, but not the H1N1, and we have no idea what version of awesome this is. He is miserable. And have you ever tried to keep a three year old out of your room? It requires high-level military defense procedures.

I'm kinda hoping for seasonal flu as the H1N1 is associated with respiratory issues and, as of late, I fall into that sparkly and special "high risk" category. (And yet? Not enough to actually be given the vaccine. But that's another rant for another day.)

The kids are trying to be helpful, but that doesn't necessarily mean NOT SCREAMY. I'd like some Not Screamy tomorrow.

The absolute highlight moment of today was when Benjamin was sitting on the couch this evening, quietly watching Backyardigans, when suddenly he popped up and announced, "Gotta go potty!" and ran, with great focus, to the bathroom. The next moment was his voice from the bathroom, "Mommy! Balls! Balls!"

(Which in BenjaSpeak means, "OMG the Poo Poo Is Coming Out and I'm Totally Not Prepared!")

So I go hauling in there to find him bent over the toilet seat, which was down, laying his head on it, and one hand literally shoved in his ass in karate-chop position trying to keep it from coming out.

I'm so not kidding.

This is when you know it's just time to call it a day. Thursday? You can just bite my ass on Main Street.