As soon as one of my children throws up, I want to flee the country, because I know that the throw up germs will soon be spewing from every hole of every body that lives in this happy home. That's a lot of holes, people.
I would rather my house be hit by a tornado than a stomach virus.
I’m not kidding.
This is partly because none of my children think it’s as much fun to puke in the potty as it is on the floor…or on me…
And partly because as soon as Aaron sees one of our children throw up, he all of a sudden has an irresistible urge, that has never surfaced prior to the puking, to take up jogging around our neighborhood. He’s out the door before I can stop convulsing with disgust near the horrified, precious little puker.
Stomach viruses have a way of making me very aware of how many people live in this house and how much we obviously lick each other or something. We know how to share some germs in this home.
So, Thursday night, about 15 minutes after Aaron left our house for the evening, Danny throws up all over the living room…all over my cute rug…all over my lovely couch.
Since everyone we know has had this horrible, stomach-content launcher, I assume that yep…the virus is here and it’s just waiting to eject from all of us.
So…I stick Danny in the bathtub and rinse him off. He is so confused as to what just happened. I’m sure mass quantities of chunks and liquid shooting out of your face has got to be weird for a little kid…and even weirder that they just watched themselves make that big of a mess and they are not in trouble.
I then run him some bathwater so he can sit and play for a while as I begin the daunting task of cleaning up my battered living room.
My first thought when I walked back into the scene of the crime was…
Let’s just move.
My second thought was I’ve got to do something with the rest of my kids so they stay out of this germy goo.
I send them outside.
They all just woke up from a nap, and instead of giving them hugs and juice, I’m saying, “Get out, get out, get out.” I think they thought I was on drugs.
Then, I practically break my wrist dragging that huge rug out in the back yard.
I come back in the house to clean up the floor and the couch to find that Danny has pooped all in the bathtub.
And to think, I thought this situation could not get any better. Silly me.
I do the only thing I know to do.
I call Aaron and tell him I hate him.
I did call him to tell him what happened right after he left.
To this, he says, “I’m sorry, honey. I wish I could come home and help you.” That’s when I say…
“I’m so sure.”
To this he laughs and says, “Yeah, I know…just kidding.”
I clean up the poop. Put a diaper on Danny. Stick him back in the empty bathtub with toys.
Then I see that our Will Ferrell of a dog is dragging that huge rug around the back yard and eating the throw up.
What is wrong with my life? And where is the rapture when you need it?
I yell for the kids to get back inside. I can just see vomit dog running up to them licking them, transferring not only throw up germs…but actual throw up onto my children.
Hayden said, “We need to get a new dog.”
The non-throw uppers watch TV in my room while I finish the nasty task of cleaning up the living room.
After everything has been thoroughly cleaned, I bring them all back into the living room and watch them like a hawk. If they cough, I run them to the bathroom. If they swallow hard…bathroom. If their eyes water…bathroom.
No one gets supper.
They all eat popsicles and grapes. Easy things to throw up that won’t stain anything.
They think it's great.
That night, I draped everyone’s beds with tons of huge blankets. I laid blankets down all over my room, sure they would wake up, walk to my bed and puke. You should have seen the place. It looked like lunatics were living here.
Everything of any value had a blanket over it. Everything uncovered could just be taken straight to the curb if someone yakked on it.
I went to bed extra early, expecting a night from the devil.
However, the next morning, Aaron and I woke up, looked at our room that appeared even more insane in the daylight with blankets covering everything, then made eye contact and said…
“No one threw up!”
It was so exciting. We wanted to hold hands, laugh and dance around in a circle.
Maybe Danny didn’t have a virus.
Maybe God just answered my prayers. I did beg Him and said, "pretty, pretty please, I'll be your best friend."
I don’t know.
I do know that I have decided to put a disaster kit together this week…an emergency, "everyone just started throwing up and Aaron suddenly remembered he needs to sing a song in Florida" kit.
It will include…
Clorox Clean Up
Antibacterial Dish Soap
Rolls and rolls of paper towels
Lots of candy to snack on (I’ve thrown up candy and it’s not too bad)
Clothespins for easier blanket draping
Disinfectant cleaning wipes
Antibacterial hand wash
A utility belt for me to wear that can hold all the stuff above until the disaster has passed.
So please people…
Keep your funk far from us.
If you’ve had a stomach virus, get away.
If you even know someone who has had one…take a break from us.
Like, don't even read our blog.