Last week was going along quite smoothly, I must admit. Things were going so well. Everything was falling into place, just as it should. To the point that I actually got to sit on the couch, alone, and control the remote. All by myself. I got to choose what to watch on TV. “Dancing with the Stars?” “Young & the Restless?” “Modern Family?” “30 Rock?” Some raunchy movie from Netflix?
The viewing options were endless. I can’t remember what I picked, but at about 10:30, which is WAY past my bedtime, I was sitting there watching TV, sipping a cold drink, feet kicked up, when I heard coughing. OK, that’s one of the kids, I thought. Just a cough. Back to regular programing.
About 10 minutes must have passed and I heard the coughing again. I thought it was the young one in her crib. Her door was closed becasuse she wakes if she hears the slightest noise, so I get up and walk over to my 4-year-old’s room to check on him first. He was the one coughing. Then, a horrible, spoiled stench hits me. It’s bad. He coughs again and I realize he’s not coughing — he’s THROWING UP! In his sleep! He’s been sleep-puking and I almost didn’t notice!
I grab my son and lay him over my arms, propping him up so he’s not laying flat for the next puke. He’s covered in it. I yell for my husband, who comes running in. I’m talking to my son, trying to get him to wake up. I realize, he doesn’t know how to throw up. He doesn’t realize that you need to let it come up — and out. I’m holding him, my husband is trying to help. Frankly, we’re at a bit of a loss. He’s limp in my arms and I get scared for a moment. Then, he throws up again, all over the place, on my pajamas, in my hair, on the floor. It’s a disgusting and a mess. I’ll spare you the rest of the nasty details.
We clean him (then me) up, get him to a mattress in my bedroom, with a bowl next to the bed. I lay down on my bed and just watch him, making sure he’s breathing, listening for any sign of a “cough.” He ends up throwing up several more times throughout the night. Each span between bouts gets longer. At some point we all fall asleep, until …
At about 5:00 a.m. my husband starts “coughing” and there goes my day. Two sick boys.
By 7:00 my son was doing better and decided to pour himself a glass of milk. The mom in me almost said, “no milk this morning.” But I let him do it anyway. After he drinks his milk, I set him up in the living room with a cartoon so that I could take my daughter to school. When I get back, well, let’s just say it was another mess. I open the front door to find my son and husband sitting on the kitchen floor. There was puke everywhere. And, I mean everywhere. Poor things. Poor me. I spend the next hour cleaning up the place.
It was a long night and a long day. I missed a big presentation at work because I had to stay home, but on this day home is where I was needed most. I’m just thankful that I didn’t get sick. That would have made the day, let’s just say, a mess.
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