My son got off the bus yesterday, walked into the house and covered his mouth with his hands. I thought maybe a wiggly tooth had come out, but when pressed to tell Mama what was wrong, the response was the dreaded, "I think I'm going to throw up." Twelve hours, several loads of laundry and um, more trips to the bathroom than I can count later, he seemed to be done with this particular round of stomach virus. Now to see if the handwashing skills instilled in the family members who are not averse to the texture of soap and water pay off!Last night, my son slept in our bed, between cramps anyway, as I sat up holding a bucket and a towel. My husband and I worked in shifts to ensure equal sleep deprivation today. The good news is that I recently gave up my "let's try to eat an apple" campaign in favor of the "let's learn to drink water" campaign. Unlike previous rounds of stomach virus, where we have had to force feed our neophobic little guy liquids to ensure hydration and prevent a trip to the hospital, I was able to give him sips from a bottle of water. And all this with only minimal spillage down his shirt. (Whatever. What did spill just served to wash off the vomit.)
While I truly hate stomach viruses and would exchange (as I was telling Jay by e-mail) almost an infinite number of colds to avoid one, there are definitely worse things. Rather than commiserating with me too much over my one night of sleepless adventuring in the bathroom with a 6-year-old, why not visit Indistinct or Maddy with some hugs, sympathy and prayers for the kinds of illnesses that don't run their course in 12 hours. And join me in thankfulness that all of us seem to have avoided the worst outcomes our situations could have brought us.
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