Sick Saturday

Quarantine Flag

Last night was one of those nights that, as an empty-nester or great-grandparent, I will look back on and say, "Yeah, don't really miss that part."

It started around midnight, when Em came downstairs and woke me up.  "I feel like I'm going to throw up, Momma."  I got her a bowl, laid towels around her bed, and tucked her in.  All the while, I was noticing that I, too, felt ill.  "I'm just tired, that's all, and maybe I ate too much pudding last night.  Yes, that must be it."

Twenty minutes later, she was calling and I was wiping, cleaning, holding hair back, and all, trying to control my own stomach.  Again an hour later, again an hour after that, you get the idea...

At five, Zee crept into my room.  "I threw up, Momma."  Even sick and exhausted, that announcement sure wakes a mother up.

"Where?"

"In the toilet."  (Oh, thank heavens for eight-year-old aim.)

"Oh, sweetie, good job.  I'm sorry you are sick.  Here, let me help you."

Bowl, towels, repeat, but only once so far.  Right now, we three are all prone in various stages of ugh.

The three youngers, so far, seem fine.  I have no illusions that they will stay that way.  My children take sharing very seriously.

Daddy will be home at four.  I hope he doesn't have it too.  As miserable as being sick at home is, being sick while camping...twenty times worse.  Good luck, Bradley.