In a sleepy haze, I carried my crying son to the bathroom while Robbie stripped the linens off the bottom bunk. I stripped the clothes off Titus and stared at him trying to formulate a plan. I hate the helplessness that comes when your child is sick and doesn't understand what is going on. I decided to cover the couch with towels and have him sleep there.
The next two hours consisted of more puking, cleaning, laundry, and crying. Just when I thought things might be settling down, I heard Selah cough. Oh nooooo! Yep, she had to puke. So, we covered the love seat with towels and settled her in there.
For three more hours, I stroked clammy foreheads, emptied puke buckets, comforted distraught children, Lysoled everything in sight, and did laundry. All the while, I walked around thinking, "REALLY?! OMG?! CAN THIS BE HAPPENING?!" And yet, I was at peace. This is my job. To take care of my children.
Finally at 7 a.m., the vomiting stopped. Selah fell asleep, Titus started running around like a crazy person (why don't kids know how to properly be sick), and I crashed on the recliner. We had survived.
|A pic of flowers instead of puke. You're welcome.|