Ahhhh . . . finally some respite. It's close to 11:00 am and everyone is sleeping. Everyone but me, because when folks are sick I deal by staying busy. Busy, busy, busy. I do laundry and fluff pillows and go to the drugstore and do anything else I can think of to keep my mind off of the sickies.
Let me start at last night with a quick brag about how Matt has locked in his father/partner of the year award. Matt's work got him four tickets to see the Sonics last night. We gave two to our good friends Julie and Christopher and my SIL was going to watch the girls for us. On the way to SIL's house we pick up a bunch of Thai food, happy as can be, then Eloise starts throwing up in the car. Hmm, that was weird, we thought. She's not a puker, so we didn't really know what to make of it. We keep going to SIL's place and figure we might be okay if it doesn't happen again. But it does, several times. We barely touch the food and gather up the kids and take off.
Most people who know me know that I am emetophobic-- meaning I have a severe and irrational fear of vomit. I can't deal at all and I start panicking and freaking out. I did a pretty good job trying to keep it together, but on the inside all my alarms are going off. Matt suggests he drops me off at the Sonics game and he go home with the girls. Now, most people who know Matt know what a huge basketball fan he is. I could tell he was trying to be nice by offering for me to go to the game still, but my anxiety was rapidly building and so I took him up on the offer to stay away from the puke for a couple of hours. Iris decided to come to the game with me, which was oodles of fun. We went in and found our amazingly good seats (10th row!) and hung out for a while. We ate popcorn and french fries and it was a ton of fun. Iris was ready to go home about half way through the last quarter, so Matt bundled up the still sick Eloise and came back and got us.
After putting the girls to bed we sit down for a breather. Not thirty minutes later, over the monitor, we hear the unmistakable sound coming from Iris's room. Matt goes in there to start project clean-up number two. He agrees to take on Iris for the night and I take on Eloise and we all retreat to our bedrooms. I got lucky. Eloise didn't get sick any more for the rest of the night and actually slept fairly well. Iris, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky. Matt reports she was up getting sick at least once an hour.
Iris is still pretty sick but fortunately she's sleeping on the big living room chair in front of Nick Jr. Matt is snoring away on the futon in preparation for a big meeting he has to be at later today. Eloise is sleeping soundly in bed. I'm keeping myself busy because sitting down for even a second means my head start racing with all my negative thinking and anxiety and fear.
Even though this all sucks a whole, whole lot, I still think we're very lucky. This is the first time Eloise has been this sick and really, she's not even THAT sick. Even between bouts of throwing up she wanted to play. Iris has been amazingly healthy her whole life and even though I've never seen her so under the weather, she's still a trooper. So far it appears neither of them have inherited my phobia, which I am beyond thankful for. Hopefully I can do everything I can to keep it that way.
I know they got some bug from either the mall or the kids play area at the jewelry store on Saturday. I am a freak about germs-- a FREAK-- but on that day, for some reason, I didn't insist on any hand-sanitizing before they ate their snacks. It's funny because my phobia makes me react irrationally to some things and I always worry I am being to freakishly stringent about washing/sanitizing hands. Turns out the answer to that is a big NO.
Oh, and the laundry! Every time people talk about their kids being sick with tummy stuff they talk about the laundry. I had no idea. It's insane. I am using the pay machines in our building to help tackle it since our hot water heater is about the size of a sippy cup.
Allright, off to throw another load in . . .