Yuck.

When one of the kids gets a stomach bug- this intense sense of dread overwhelms me. I'm constantly waiting for the next round of puking- watching like a hawk for signs of illness in any other family members. I lay there, when the house is sleeping, with one hand on a bucket and the other on a pile of towels, ready to go.

 

The other day, I started to feel bloated, but chalked that up to Halloween candy. At about 3am, I suddenly realized I was in for some good times. To give a bit of history, I'm the Linda Blair of stomach flus. When I puke, it sounds like demons are escaping my body- and no matter how hard I try, I can't quell the violent wretches that riot the house.

It really freaked my kids out. By 6:30am, I called my mother, and begged her to come get the kids. Annie had her fingers in her ears, and was in her rocking chair, crying. Lucy kept asking if she could come in the bathroom and see what was going on. My Mom got there by 9am, whisked the kids away, and left me to an eerily quiet house, with CNN on the television and a naughty puppy trying to get my attention by eating a round of shoes. 

I did nothing more than drift in and out of sleep, in between bouts of Excorcist impersonating- aging approximately 85 years in one afternoon. By the time Matt got out of 2 very big cases and headed home, he had started with the feverish chills. 3 down, one more person to go.