Tuesday. AD got up and as normal, straight to the booby. Five minutes later, “uh-da booby.” OK, other booby. Five minutes later, breast milk shooting out of his mouth, with projectile precision in a style that Linda Blair can’t even compete with. He doesn’t feel hot, his mood seems fine, probably just drank too big a breakfast. Wrong. Ended up with three more puke piles on the floor that day, thank God at least one of those wasn’t on the carpet…oh yeah, and diarrhea, and thanking God again but this time that he still wears a diaper. Fun day.
Wednesday. Just enjoying the very rare morning “Mommy and Daddy time” since Hubby has a later call in than usual. Rat-a-tat-tat softly on my door. A quiet sound I am tempted to ignore except, it’s kind of a strange sound too. D’Lo is sitting in the hallway outside our room, half asleep, heaving. That’s another nice puddle of vomit on my carpet. I scoop him up, still gagging, as we are followed all the way to the tiolet by said vomit. By the evening, the mean stomach bug as found it’s way into me and I find myself standing over that same toilet, seeing my enchilada casserole for an unwanted, second time.
Thursday. 3:30am, my cell phone is ringing. I barely have the energy to answer it, but it’s 3:30 in the morning and I know that whoever is calling must really need to talk to me. It’s Devaney, she’s calling me from her bedroom. “Mom, I’m sick. I just threw-up, can u bring me a bowl?” I stumble out of bed, grab the unused puke-bowl that I put next to my bed for D’Lo the previous day, and head down the hall to her room. She threw up alright, can you guess where? On the carpet in her room. I cover it with a towel, give her the bowl, and rush back to my room before I make a mess on the poor carpet myself. When I get up early in the morning to check on her, I find my oldest son laid out on the floor in front of their bathroom. He’s also been up all night throwing up. He made it to the toilet every time except one, that’s right, you guessed it…on the carpet in his room. Spent the rest of the day, still in my own recovery, caring for my two still-sick kids, running after my not-sick-anymore toddler and preschooler who were on a rampage all day.
Friday?????? Not sure yet. Two of the seven of us have yet to be caught by this mean bug. Hubby, who’s been claiming all along that his immune system is just too strong to take a fall, just walked in to our bedroom not looking or sounding too sure about that anymore. He doesn’t want to talk about it, cuz, you know, not talking about it will definitely keep it from happening. And Dee Dee? Not sure about that yet either. Maybe my cell will ring again at 3:30 in the morning and if I’m really lucky, I can add a few more puke puddles to the growing list I’ll give my Bissell Steam Cleaner tomorrow…
