Outbreak

Twas the night before Church
When all through the house
Not a creature was stirring
Not even a mouse

oh crap!
What was that?

   I heard something that I imagine is what Hell hounds sound like followed by crying!  Nathan threw up! After two rounds of scrubbing down and outfit changes, we were wide awake and miserable.  We decided to snuggle up on the couch and watch tv.
   Every time the poor kid barfed into a bucket, I cheered and clapped and told him good job! I had to make sure that he knew that the vomiting protocol was to up chuck in a bucket and/or toilet and not on mommy (which Syd seems to believe!) After each ridiculous shower of praise, gave me quite the look. If that kid knew profanity, I am pretty sure he would have made a sailor blush with his thoughts on my "great job, buddy!"
    About two hours into our all night Bubble Guppies marathon, my mind started to wander. It thought about every toddler kiss, every bite of his lunch that I couldn't let go to waste, and every boogie and wad of gum that was deposited into my hand. Suddenly I was drowning in sess pool of germs and it was only a matter of time before..... Insert shuddering and sounds of impending doom!
    On Sunday I was fine. Monday I was feeling a little off. I was sitting there giving the kids a bath, I kinda started feeling worse. I texted Stephen to give him a heads up and he told me to call him if I need him.  About 20 minutes later I called him home.  I had started chanting "you are not getting sick" over and over but no one was listening. I WAS SICK!  Nathan ran off as soon as I got him out of the tub and was jumping on my bed. I couldn't move fast enough to catch him, so I stood there doing Lamaze breathing to fight off nausea while he was flopping his junk all over my pillow and waited for him to slow down.
    The first thing Stephen said when he saw me was "you don't look good" and then he took the kids down stairs.  As soon as they were out of sight, I gave up the battle.  Let's just say that those healthy cereals that you pretend taste good, well there is NO pretending the second time you taste them.  I don't think I have been that sick since I was a kid.
     Stephen did an awesome job taking care of the kids and answering all my texts.  He brought me ginger ale and crackers and then went to the store to get me Popsicles when I asked.  All I could do is lay in bed and not move an inch.  That is probably why I felt so achy and sore.  By 4:30, I couldn't take it. I had to soak in the tub and relax my muscles.  Now, I am not a diva, I swear! But I couldn't get the water hot enough, so while Stephen was feeding the kids dinner, I had him boiling a large pot of water to warm my bath.
     By the end of the night I was feeling much better and was happily sleeping away.  Some where in my dream, I heard a faint whisper of "Mommy!" But my dream was too good, I didn't want to wake up.  The whisper was louder and louder until it was yelling and feet scampering across the floor. The final battle cry and sound of someone puking on my bed, got me up (so long Wiggles, It was fun hanging out with you in my dreams!)  Sydney became victim number 3 at 3am. Surprisingly, she was the least sick and after a long nap, she was back to herself.
     Stephen had still escaped the plague, so Wednesday morning I sanitized the house.  I wiped/sprayed everything in the house.  The Lysol was so thick in the air, you could probably cut it with a knife. In fact I think I can still taste it (a week later) after walking through cloud after cloud of spray that day. I wanted us decontaminated because we had plans to visit my niece and nephew that weekend and I did not want to miss it.
     Friday night, we had just about everything packed up and ready to go for our trip the next day and Stephen was feeling kinda weird.  Just when he thought he was safe, he became victim number 4.   And I was the doting wife who took care of him, right? Umm, I asked if he needed anything and then made sure he stayed away from our stuff.  Then 7am the next day, I asked if he was okay and needed anything. Then I called out "bye babe, feel better" and I started loading up the kids for our fun weekend. I think I might have told him to make sure he sprayed down the house when he felt better too.  Wife of the year, for sure!

     Note from the editor (Stephen)
 When I am sick, I never want to hear Jamie call it a "Man Cold" again. Ever... then we'll call it even.