Why I hate January in Boston.

Yes, it's been awhile. Yes, there are about a hundred pictures and activities I've been meaning to chronicle on this blog. But instead of cute pictures of the kids at the apple farm or stories about our Christmas travels, I am going to tell you why I hate January in Boston. It's not the snow or the ice. It's not the slush that soaks me to the skin when I'm walking from the T to work. It's not the realization that it's going to be at least four more months before I can even think of taking my kids outside to play. This January it's not even that Scott is so busy studying for Quals that we hardly see him.

It's the stomach flu, more accurately known as gastroenteritis. Every January since we have been in Boston, Evan has come down with whatever stomach bug is terrorizing Boston that particular year. Two Januarys ago, he also got me sick (sickest I have been in a decade), my poor visiting mother-in-law sick, and even Scott. (He also ended up with pneumonia that January, though I doubt the two were related.) Last January we all got it again, starting with Evan and including three-month-old Caleb (but minus my mother-in-law who, fortunately for her wasn't able to make it for her usual January visit) and Evan ended up in the ER.

Oh how I was hoping we might avoid it this January. That maybe extra hand sanitizing, fewer playgroup visits, and crossing my fingers would save us all. Alas, it was not meant to be. Evan wandered out of his room half an hour ago covered in vomit. I'm sure the rest of us will be joining him soon. I hate January.