Warning: Viewer Discretion Advised
Every year at Christmas I host a little
Gingerbread House Decorating Party. The entire week leading up to my party this year I have a horrible cold; I just keep praying that I will be ok by Friday. Friday rolls around, and I am good as gold. I go for a quick appointment at my OB, and she off-handedly says, "You should be happy that you didn't get that stomach flu that's going around." Bum bum bum. After the appointment, I get everything together, ship my kids off to my mom's for the day, and am ready to go, blissfully unaware.
The party starts, people arrive, houses are built, and around 8:00 I hear the death rattle pterodactyl scream of my foster son, signalling that he is no longer asleep. I run up the stairs only to find Johnny in the dark room wiping off what looks like Little Guy's entire body with a towel. "He threw up." Fabulous. We clean him up as best we can, and Johnny goes to rock him back to sleep.
Around 9:00, amid sparkling conversation and mulled wine (that I of course couldn't drink), I hear cries coming from my foster daughter. I walk in the room, and hear "Mama, barf." Fabulous. I bring her into the bathroom to clean her up and hug her where she promptly vomits all over me. I ask Johnny to go downstairs and inform the lovely party guests of the situation and to send them on their merry way. I then proceed to clean both of us up while Johnny takes charge of the sheets. Little Sister gets back in bed, and I go downstairs only to find that my friends have cleaned up all my dishes for me. Best part of the whole night, I tell you. No joke.
Johnny and I go to bed, both slightly grossed out. Around 2:00am I hear a small cry from Lila, the token sound, and "Mama, barf." I get her up and clean her off while Johnny once again takes care of the sheets. The best part of this whole situation is the dread I feel about the coming day, knowing that Johnny is leaving at 5:00am for National Guard and that I will be dealing with three stomach flu victims alone. The only thing that can make it worse would be if I get the flu too.
Which I do around noon, complete with contractions from dehydration.
My mom brings over some movies, and we all watch Barney for the rest of the day and by "watch Barney for the rest of the day" I mean that I have Barney on in the background while I explain over and over again to my kids why they can't eat anything and that I know their tummies hurt and I'm sorry that I can't do anything about it.
Johnny finally gets home from Topeka a few hours before bedtime and makes it until everyone is in bed and then proceeds to be sick the entire night.
Long story short, the next few days are filled with loads and loads and loads of laundry, many bowls of applesauce, and even more half-eaten crackers. I am seriously just now getting everyone's sheets back on their beds. So what should we do tonight? Definitely paint the family room.
