It's been a rough two weeks around these parts. While the snow has been melting and flowers blooming the cooties has taken up residence in here. Gross.
It started two weeks ago when I was awoken at 2am with the words no parent wants to hear..."Mommy, I threw up." My first instinct is always to go and soothe them, get them cleaned up, everything wiped down and ease them back into bed. I will them toss and turn while thoughts in my head move from, "Maybe she just ate something bad", to "Crap, do I have any meeting tomorrow?" Three hours later the same thing is heard from her room. The sheets are once again stripped, because she missed the bucket, and I try to soothe her that it will be ok.
I make the dreaded call into work. I won't be in. I will miss that important meeting. My child is sick and needs me. The day will be filled with the basics of the BRAT diet. For those of you who don't have children it is not a description of my child but the recommended diet of doctors - bananas, rice, applesauce and toast. Blander than bland. She will sit on the couch and binge watch "Good Luck, Charlie" and I will write emails and continuously sterilize my house.
By 2pm she is out running around with the neighbors kids. Can she be better that quick? Was she faking? No, "Good Luck, Charlie" is not that good of a show. She wouldn't miss a whole day to watch it. Would she?
Nope. She was sick. An email from the teacher confirmed it later that several kids were out with the same thing. I wash her backpack and wipe down her folders, you know, just in case. When her brother gets home they greet each other with a giant kiss and I can do nothing but think that I will need to clear my meetings for the next week.
Yes, he does get sick. Days later with something completely different. I will save that story for another day.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go bathe my children in Lysol.
Comments will be approved before showing up.