Vomit-ville

Warning: This is long and somewhat graphic.

Do not come to my house. Do. Not. We are firmly in Vomit-ville, not to be confused with Margarita-ville, which is where I would love to be right now.

It all started Sunday night. Bobby and I had successfully finished tiling the front bathroom (post to come - with pictures!), had congratulated each other, gotten the kids to sleep in their beds and had settled into one of those wonderful bone-tired sleep sessions.

When.... around 5 am Emily throws up everywhere - and I mean everywhere. Oh yeah, she was in bed with us at the time. So, being as tired as I was, I used baby wipes to clean her and her hair off and changed both of our clothes while Bobby stripped the bed. (#1)

He joined Chris in his bed and I took Emily into her bed in her room. (Sidenote: In the past, even when he was small, Chris would throw up once and then be done. Just for the record.) So, I'm drifting off to sleep again, when, yep, baarrrff. All over Emily's bed. I take her out to the couch while Bobby strips the bed. (#2)

I stay out on the couch with her all night, sitting/reclining/dozing while she continues to be sick every 20-30 min. Bobby and Chris wake up in the morning, Emily wakes and acts the rest of the day like she's feeling great.

Monday night at around 1:30 am Emily cries, I bring her into our bed (lined with a towel "guard" just in case) and she promptly throws up, completely missing the towel and soaking our sheets. Bobby strips the bed (#3), goes in with Chris, and Emily and I go into her room. I spend the rest of the night with towels strategically draped everywhere, jumping at every sigh and groan, ready to catch the inevitable puke. There is none for the rest of the night.

Tuesday is great. We go to the grocery store and the park and eat chocolate chip cookies. The weather is nice and cool - it's a perfect day. Bobby gets home from work and suggests that I go to the library to pick up a couple of things that we had reserved while he grills burgers and lets the kids play outside. I take my time, browsing around. Walking in the door, I can immediately tell that something is very wrong. Chris' clothes are draped over the washing machine covered in....what? I think "Oh no, Emily threw up on Chris!" Nope. Chris threw up on Chris.

Apparently, minutes after I walked out the door, Chris started feeling yucky in his tummy. By the time I got home, he'd been sick a handful of times and Bobby had cleaned up the floor a couple of times. The poor boy continues to be "sick" all through the evening and into the late, late night. He throws up at least 20 times. He even gets to where he has nothing left - he's just dry.

In the meantime, I fix some dinner for the rest of us and try to carry on, in-between rubbing his back and wiping his little mouth. Strangely, Bobby declines dinner, saying that he doesn't really "feel like it". Okay, whatever. I'm in the bathroom giving Emily a bath when I hear a weird loud thunk and some sort of splashing sound. You guessed it -- Bobby. Heaving his guts out. Several times.

So, at around midnight, the two sickies go to bed together again, armed with buckets and towels. I stay up waiting for my sheets to finish drying. Chris has a couple of "episodes" during the night and of course I dash into the bedroom to make sure everyone (Bobby) is okay. At one point Chris turns to sleep with his head at the "foot" end of the bed. During one of his "episodes", Bobby can't reach down with the bucket fast enough. So, I stripped the bed. (#4)

Emily makes it through the night without incident. Chris wakes up feeling much better and happily breakfasts on popcicles. Bobby stays home from work and hangs out in his sweatpants all day, recuperating. I do laundry, put diapers on my shopping list (Emily's condition has moved further south now), do laundry, rent movies for the day, do laundry, BLOG, fix chicken soup and grilled cheese for dinner and do laundry.

How has your week been??