It started out on Tuesday night. We didn’t realize this until I started puking Thursday. On Tuesday, Abby was super crabby and then puked once. Given the large amount of Cafe Rio in her puke, I guessed that I probably had fed her too much of it (that’s a lie. I knew I had fed her too much of it. Because I didn’t want to give her any. I love my Cafe Rio salads as much as I love my life. I made her a sandwich and grapes. She loves sandwiches and grapes! As soon as I was done I sat down with my salad, she took one look at me and immediately swiped ALL of her food from the table to the ground and then did the sign for “more”. Communicating.). But then she was FINE.
So Thursday came and I felt yucky, but again I was sure that it was from all of the (free-range) Reese’s Easter Eggs I had eaten. And Starburst jelly beans. Neither of these companies have paid me for the endorsements, but if they want to send me free candy, I’m not going to tell them no.
|Instagram on Android! Self portraits are now classy.|
I called Lance just as things started to get worse. Much worse. He said he’d get home as soon as he could, but even if he had left that minute, it still would have taken him an hour to get home. 12 miles. We live TWELVE MILES from his work and the commute takes no less than 50 minutes. Damn you, urban living. (Ask Casey about Urban, Suburban and rural areas…also, ask him about how PEOPLE become extinct…it’s hilarious).
At 3:31 I woke as Abby pulled my hair. Good thing. I had to pick the kids up from school. We live .22 miles from the school. Not far. Driving actually takes longer than walking because the school’s traffic system thingee. Plus, if you don’t get ALL of your kids on the first pass through the circle drive, you have to do it again. And, if by chance you have an autistic kid who sees you JUST BARELY DRIVE AWAY on your turn around to do another pass, you’re screwed. Everyone is screwed. And you can never drive again. Never. (I actually almost did drive, but when I opened the car door, there was too much trash…and since it’s the FREAKING TEACHERS who open the doors for the kids to get in the car, I couldn’t risk it. They are mandatory reporters as well)
So I had to walk. I pushed Abby’s stroller. And by “pushed” I mean “leaned over and held on for dear life.” I got the kids and walked home. My super cute neighbor was talking to me and I just kept walking. I couldn’t do it. I’ll have to explain that one to her later. I asked Carter to watch Abby and climbed into bed. And so did Casey.
He was sick, too.
Then Carter, then Peyton, and now Lance. The last 18 hours have looked a little something like this:
Seriously. Bad. I threw up with such force, that everything that landed in the toilet splashed out and all down my legs. The worst part? I have a canker store in the back of my throat. Stomach acid. Canker sore. Throat. I did notice that my diet is very colorful like the health experts say it should be…but the probably didn’t mean jelly beans.
Casey kept throwing up in the sinks of the bathrooms instead of the toilets. Lance had to scrub out the chunks.And the floors. And the blankets. He was us all night directing puking children to toilets (or sinks) and cleaning up the mess when they didn’t make it.
That’s why when Lance told me that he had to go to work today, I wasn’t super pissed. Just a regular-pissed. Casey was feeling better this morning, and in my feverish haze, I asked him nicely to watch Abby while I went to bed.
Yeah, that’s right, I asked my son with autism to watch my daughter with Down syndrome. Lasted about five minutes when I heard her splashing in the toilet…with a razor…(good thing the lid was on the razor. Here’s a fun fact- Lance NEVER uses the same razor twice, yet refuses to throw away any of them. I however have a bunch of new unused razors because I refuse to get a new one until the blades are completely useless and I’m only getting hair off because I’m also shucking off skin).
Just for fun, we sent Peyton, the lone-child survivor of the Puker Games to school. You know, because we’re idiots. He lasted until 3:10. He puked on the school nurse.
At 6, Lance came in and said that he was done. He crawled into bed with me and I knew then that my term of being sick was over. I feel like crap, but not as bad as I did yesterday. I’m off to scrub the puke out of the carpet downstairs and scrape the boogers out of Abby’s hair…which is another story completely.
Aaah, living the dream.