Or my house, anyway.
All day Sunday I wasn’t feeling very well, but I chalked it up to a pending Ladies’ Holiday. I find as I head into my middle 30s that my symptoms involve a certain amount of digestive complaint – it’s delightful, I can’t wait until the “Have a Happy Period” people do a commercial about that little side effect – so it didn’t really raise any alarm bells.
Then as I was making dinner, George wandered into the kitchen, asked Michael to pick him up, and promptly vomited. A lot. The floor. The fridge. The dishwasher. Himself and his dad. George has never had a stomach virus before, and he was both bewildered and frightened. It was… unpleasant.
Michael took them both into the shower. I cleaned and disinfected the kitchen, and started a load of laundry.
Loads of laundry – 1
Since George was clearly quite sick, and I wasn’t feeling well either, I did something I never do. I called all my clients and told them I’d be closed on Monday.
As the evening continued and George vomited twice more, I had cause to be very glad that I’d made the closure decision. I got the kids to bed and settled on the couch to relax. Half an hour later I was in the bathroom, wrapped around the toilet and wishing for death because here’s the thing – I hate throwing up. I hate it, I hate it when other people do it in front of me, I have been known on more than one occasion to sympathy-puke. It’s my Waterloo.
Loads of laundry – 2
I had a very rough night – my stomach hurt horribly, and I tossed & turned all night trying in vain to find a comfortable position. Mercifully George slept all night with no further vomiting spells, although he did get up at 5:30AM.
When Michael got up, he found me
resting asleep passed out cold on the couch, George up to who knows what. “I think I’d better stay home”, he said. “You don’t look good at all.”
“No no,” I whimpered. “I’ll be FINE. Look!” I tried to get up and couldn’t.
He sent me back to bed, where I stayed until 11AM.
The day was OK. Every joint in my body ached (oh, and hello Ladies’ Holiday, thanks for coming to the party) but at least no one was vomiting any more. George kept asking for food and then not eating any of it. Mid-afternoon I had some toast and didn’t want to die. I started feeling cautiously optimistic.
Harry got home from school and rather lackadaisically played Wii for a while. Then he flopped over on the floor and announced that he felt “headachy, dizzy, and weird”. Within a half hour he was vomiting (in the toilet, because he’s seven now and at that age they can get themselves to the toilet!)
Through all of this, Ron was bouncing off the walls. Driving us all bonkers. So much nervous energy. You could tell he wasn’t happy about me being out of commission, and he was expressing it by being a total pill. He had soccer last night, and even though I felt like death warmed over I agreed to take him just to let him blow off a little steam.
As I was leaving, I could hear poor Harry in the bathroom again.
Eventually I got everyone off to bed. I emailed my clients explaining the situation and asking that if possible, they keep their kids home today (everyone can, except Louis’ parents. He’ll be here soon.) I ate something. At 9:30 I decided to be sensible and go get a night’s sleep.
At 11:30 Ron started screaming and sobbing. Ran into the boys’ room and OH LOOK MORE VOMIT WHAT A SURPRISE. Poor Ron had managed to throw up all over the bed. Michael took charge of cleaning him up while I stripped & remade the bed.
Loads of laundry – 3
Eventually we all got back to sleep. George woke up cranky at 5:18, but he ate a (small) breakfast, so I count him cured.
Harry is still ghost-pale, but he ate a piece of toast, and says he feels less sick but still very tired. So he’s home today.
Ron bounced out of bed, declared himself “all better!”, and likewise demanded a piece of toast. He took one bite and promptly threw up all over himself, my fuzzy bathrobe, and the couch.
Loads of laundry – 4
And then I heard Michael in the bathroom…