I’m fine, we’re fine
Let me preface this by saying...if you have a weak stomach or do not enjoy reading about other people’s bodily fluids- skip it. This post is gross.
We’re just battling the never ending sickness from hell. It started the Wednesday before Christmas. 2yo had a cough, fever, chills, runny nose- the usual. We gave him some extra naps, did some sinus rinses and extra fluids and voila! He was better by Christmas. On Christmas Eve, I woke up with the worst headache i’ve ever had. By noon, I was running at 103.5. By 5pm I was laying totally still and hoping that I didn’t die. I rallied and managed to put shit under the tree. Christmas day is a total blur. I was still feverish and miserable. That night, the baby caught it. By this point, I was pretty sure I was knocking on death’s door. I could barely move, and the baby would only cease his screaming if he was in my arms (or, you know, trying to physically climb into my body). Due to what I assumed was snot and nastiness draining into his belly, he puked all over me. Lukewarm bath, some pedialyte, and tylenol, and finally we all fell asleep. We got at 11 AM the next day. By 1 o’clock the baby was ready for a nap again, and honestly, so was I. I noticed that AJ was starting to sniffle, so I quickly made her drink cinnamon and honey and lemon and everything else I could think of to keep the illness away. I snuggled in for a quick nap while the kiddos were asleep, and the next think I hear is AJ yelling, “SOS!” from the baby’s room. Thinking we are going to the ER because he’s having some kind of febrile seizure, I sprint up the steps to find the baby, his crib, and AJ covered in more puke. I’m still convincing myself that this is simply because of his cold- this couldn’t possibly be a stomach virus on top of everything else, right?
WRONG.
I managed to maintain sanity for two days, (diarrhea filled, but no more vomit). Finally, on the third day, the watery diapers ended. I believed we were in the clear. By New Year’s Eve, I assumed all was fine. Until 2yo started farting the nastiest farts i’ve ever smelled. It’s just something he ate, I told myself. We went about our day. When he refused to eat breakfast, I blamed it on the weather. Slowly, I could feel the panic rising. Nap time, hooray! With the baby still recovering, we laid down for naps earlier than usual. About an hour in, I heard the sound. I tore up the steps, trying to prevent the mess from happening on the new mattress for his “big boy” bed. I wasn’t fast enough. By the time I entered the room, it was already coming from both ends. I stood there in horror, trying to make my newly potty trained little babe understand that this couldn’t have been prevented, as he whined between retches and sobs, “I POOP IN ME NEW BED! I POOP IN ME NEW BED!”
Bath, laundry, mattress scrubbing, introducing him to the “Yuck-It Bucket”. Put his old plastic mattress on the floor, put some cartoons on, and went downstairs to find AJ laying on our bed, looking pale as a ghost. I’ll let your imagination come up with what happened next, but note that she is an adult and WAS able to make it to the bathroom.
Commence with me lysol wiping, bleaching, and scrubbing all surfaces. Stripping beds and washing pillows, and hoping above all else that I would survive unscathed. I did not. (Picture me vomiting into the bathroom trash can while shitting, then, realizing that the smell of my vomit was making me puke more, throwing the trashcan out the bathroom window and continuing to puke into the grass below the open window).
The only person with magical immunity in this house is 3yo. We’ve been through sickness after sickness and she has yet to catch a single thing. I think it’s gone now. I think we survived. Welcome, 2018. Welcome.
