Until... NOW.
It hit Logan Tuesday night. The poor kid was vomiting so much that I called the urgent care nurse and she advised us to not even bother with driving to the ER, but to call 911. I didn't think it was serious enough to do that, but while we were getting ready to head out Logan perked up. We ended up staying home and eventually he fell asleep for the night.
Wednesday was good. Too good, as in the-calm-before-the-storm too good. Because what are the odds you'd be so lucky to only have puke hit the house for four hours and suddenly go away?
Wednesday night I started to feel iffy so Chris told me to go to bed. A few hours later I woke up to hear him rush into Owen's room. Yep, Owen had puked. He stuck Owen in the tub, and apologetically asked if I could get up to sit in the kid while he started laundry. I wanted to say no because I felt so awful, but I got up. Entered the bathroom to find my poor little firstborn puking in the tub. And then I heard Chris yell "Logan just puked in his crib!"
Are you effing serious?
In my miserable yet I-have-to-put-my-child-first state, I wrapped Owen in a towel and took him downstairs. Covered the couch with a couple of blankets and put him down. Chris brought Logan to me, and the three of us sat there pathetically while Super Dad ran around upstairs cleaning.
Logan was staring around blankly and Owen was looking ready to puke again. And then it was finally my turn. I handed Owen a pan and said "puke into this" and got up to take care of what I needed to take care of.
I guess I've already shared way more than I needed to, so I will buzz over the next two days fast: Logan puked just the one time and was done, but was still under the weather until Friday. Chris stayed up with Owen that first night and dealt with more puke. Owen slept for most of Thursday and Friday. I don't remember Thursday ever happening because I slept through it. I checked the calendar and yes, it still did occur. It's been a long time since I felt that horrible, and a very long time since I've had the stomach flu. It's been at least 15 years. I think I'd rather give birth again. With another failed epidural, and with a kid getting lodged in my pelvis (also known as combining my two birth experiences). Serious.
In hindsight, I'm actually giggling about our orchestrated puke session from Wednesday night. It's like we were reading sheet music and all had our parts. The boys and I puked in harmony and Chris was the conductor, frantically running around and keeping us on tempo. Yep, the J-Crew even gets sick as a team, because we're just fun like that.
(PS We're only 28 days into the new year, but my husband gets the Man of the Year 2012 award. Seriously sweetie, thank you for taking such good care of us and more important, for keeping the house clean. He is now feeling sick so it's my turn to care for him.)
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