A memorable Memorial Day

It has been some week, one that I don’t want to re-live. It started with what we thought was a typical 12-hour stomach bug. The boy awoke around 4 a.m. and ran downstairs to the bathroom.  As he vomited and I wiped his sweaty brow with a wash cloth, I thought how wonderful it was that he is at the age where he realizes that he needs to run to the bathroom. Gone are the days of sitting up and vomiting in bed, on the floor, down the stairs and so on, my boy has grown up!

After bleaching down the bathroom, opening the windows to air out any unwanted germs and spraying Lysol around the entire house and family, I thought we were good to go. Yes, I spray EVERYTHING when sickness invades our home. I am so bad about spraying that my sweet boy turned  around and threw me a look and asked “Did you just spray ME with Lysol?” I said, no, even though  as I was spraying our remote control and pillows on the couch I did happen to just squirt a bit his way. I wanted to clear the germy air around him.

A few days went by and I thought we were in the clear, until 4 a.m. when I heard “Mama, MAAAMMMAAA,” coming from the baby monitor that I still have in my precious girl’s bedroom. My most wonderful husband bounded up the stairs. I then heard, “She has barfed all in her bed” coming from the monitor. Ugh, just when I thought my kids were growing up and realizing the nauseous feeling meant get your hiney to the bathroom.

The next morning she was bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to eat breakfast. I was perplexed, but let her eat as normal. I kept her home from school and she had a normal day. She played outside in her little pool, helped plant tomatoes with her Pop in the garden and seemed perfectly healthy. Hmmm, freak upset tummy or virus from her brother? We didn’t know, but went with it.

That evening, both children were bouncing off of the walls as they each had field trips with their respective schools the following day. My sweet flower was going to the zoo and the boy to the flower gardens. She was excited about her Daddy going with her and seeing the giraffes, and he was over the moon that all children were receiving a tadpole to bring home.

As you can imagine, I was quite surprised when I went upstairs at 1 a.m. to the sounds of a whimpering child. They both had great days, ate well and so on. As soon as I saw my girl curled up I immediately grabbed her to take her downstairs to the bathroom. Too late, as I was lifting her up (mid-air mind you) she let it go. Vomit all over her rug and the side of her freshly laundered sheets. She then let go again at the top of the stairs and all over my arm-ahhh Motherhood.

After she was cleaned up and asleep in my bed (poor Daddy, banished to sleep on the mattress cover in our sweet girl’s twin bed) I started to finally fall back asleep when the boy came running down the stairs. He was sick too; I will leave the details out. The joys of one bathroom. folks. I couldn’t believe it. We had been vomit- and other end-sick free for 24 hours, what was going on?

Today, the day of field trips, they both awoke ready to go. I had to disappoint them with the news that while I didn’t know what was going on in their tummies, they were not going to go to school and possibly spread something or be miserable on their field trips, bad-guy Mama.

Now, they have both been all day without being sick (just like yesterday), and I am dreading any middle of the night whimpers.  I have no idea what is going on with them, but they are perfectly normal at this very moment (as normal as they get anyway). I on the other hand can be seen frantically spraying Lysol around the house.

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