Raise your hand if you like succulent, grilled chicken, fresh, crisp green salad, homemade bread with real, sweet cream butter, topped off with made-from-scratch brownies and rich, homemeade vanilla ice cream?
Now, raise your hand if you enjoy cleaning it up from bedding and floors after your family has thrown it up all over your house.
Yeah, that's what I thought.
And before you start pointing fingers, no, it wasn't my cooking.
Baby was the first start spewing sometime between 3 and 4 a.m. Sunday morning. But she seemed to improve as the day wore on. She was still her crazy, little self and never acted like she felt bad. No one else showed symptoms and we thought we were in the clear.
But we were fools. Fools, I tell you.
I knew something was wrong when Sister turned down brownies and ice cream after dinner. Ice cream.
Hubby started in around 11:00 last night. Call me insensitive, but I cleared outta there and let him handle it. He's a big boy, ya know. Around midnight I kept smelling...well, you know...for lack of a better word, puke. It was strongest in Sister's room, but I never heard a peep from her. It was dark, so I couldn't really see, but I didn't need to. She reeked. I sat her up in bed and she said groggily, "I frew up." Yeah. I can see that.
I flipped on the lamp next to her bed to survey the damage and begin the process of cleaning up. The girl was covered, and had slept in it. Imagine, if you will, the combination of Sister's very long hair and...chunks. Suffice it to say, she took a late night bath.
After getting to bed around 1 a.m., I was awakened at 5:00 by Baby. Yup, you guessed it. More spewing.
Brother gets up around 7:00. I give him strict orders to stay away from everyone. He eats some toast and chocolate milk for breakfast. We call it a sick day and put in movies.
Then comes the diarrhea. And then, well, did I mention he had chocolate milk for breakfast?
Without going into detail, here is a basic overview of our day:
Spew. Squirt. Spew. Squirt.
The fun never stops.
Fortunately, I think we're on the down side. And even though I have been down and dirty (literally) in the thick of the battle, I have, by some strange, unknown phenomena, escaped the plague. Knock on wood.
So, anyone hungry?