So, I was very happy that there was a 4 day weekend. Except.... very early Friday morning, right before the wonderful weekend started.... Child 2 barfed.
Well, okay. Fine. I guess we have a barfer. Let's see how things go.
It appeared to be a one time thing and he was shortly up and running around as if nothing had happened. And then it started raining, and it didn't stop for about 2 days. We weren't leaving the house even if we wanted to.
Then on Saturday afternoon, Child 1 barfed. I blogged about it. He was just lying there on the chair and it all came out. Onto me. Yay. But about an hour later, HE was perfectly fine and stimming and running around as if nothing had happened. I guess that's just how this particular bug works? Okay. Moving on....
Sunday was uneventful. Our weekend was pretty much ruined, anyway. It had finally stopped raining but we're still inside taking it easy, even though both kids are perfectly fine and healthy and full of energy (or so it seemed). Lovely weekend we're having so far, though, right?
Monday, very early morning, I'm sleeping in Child 1's bed and I hear "AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!" coming from the big bedroom, followed by "BBLLLAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH." Oh, christ. Child 1 comes in a minute later and climbs in next to me. I guess it was Child 2 this time. Child 1 and I go back to sleep and I pretend it didn't happen.
Yeah. It happened though, and we spend another day inside, "taking it easy"
Tuesday was supposed to be school for both of them but I didn't have to work and hubs decided to take the day off so we all stayed home.... just in case. Child 2 spends all day running around like a whirling dervish, chasing cats and yelling and jumping and bouncing and yelling and bouncing and more yelling? Then, mid-day, he's sitting on the couch and suddenly says "Uh oh, I don't feel so good," but he's kind of a drama queen and I thought maybe he was just prepping for trying to get out of going to school (again) the next day. I gave him a big tupperware, though, just in case, and I told him to aim for it if he thought he was going to hurl.
About 10 minutes later I'm in the kitchen with hubs and we hear "AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!" coming from the TV room, followed by "BBLLLAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH" and I go down to find that he has very thoughtfully filled up the tupperware and not gotten any on himself or the couch or anything else. Nice work! He then passes out for about 5 hours and when he wakes up, resumes his energetic path of destruction through the house (those poor, poor cats). I say to hubs "worst case scenario, tomorrow morning, how late can you stay home?" because I have to go to work! But if this kid needs to stay home, we can split the day in half. Hubs will take Shift #1 (until noon) and I will take Shift #2.
Wednesday morning (today) it's very very early. At this point I'm determined that these kids are going to fucking school if I have to drag their asses there kicking and screaming; I have to work, anyway. I'm lying in my own bed with Child 1 and he starts coughing. And coughing. And he won't stop coughing. What's with the coughing? Then I realize .... he's not coughing. He's fucking barfing.
ARE. YOU. KIDDING. ME??
I fucking FLIP out. I've already washed the sheets on my bed THREE TIMES this weekend, and now I have to do it again?? I start storming through the house, on this angry rampage, muttering about barfing and laundry and working and children and something something something LAUNDRY? AGAIN?? I think I scared hubs, because he looked a little nervous when he volunteered to take another day off work.
I almost literally drag Child 2 out of there kicking and screaming; I take him to school and I go to work.
As I write this, it is 3:00 on Wednesday afternoon. We're all home. Nobody has barfed in at least 8 hours. Everybody seems to be okay.
What will happen tomorrow, though? Only the puke fairy knows, and I wish that bitch would get the fuck away from my house.....