As parents, we have to deal with all sorts of grossness from snot to poop and even worse……..vomit.
I’m pretty certain I have a pathological fear of the dreaded gastro bug. It turns me into this mental lunatic who panics at the site of a slightly pale child and sprays the bejeezus out of a can of Glen 20 in everyones faces. I cannot deal with it.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one of those people who gag and heave at the sight, sound or smell of someone chucking up (although that is way too funny watch someone who does that). I can, with a high level of disgust, clean it up and sort it out (only my own and my kids’, I’m not volunteering to clean up anyone else’s). But gastro? That’s a whole other thing.
It’s been going around the boy’s school and kindy so I was stuffed either way really. As soon as I hear someone has it, I immediately get this feeling in the pit of my cheeseburger lined stomach. I get a bit of a twitch and scan the playgrounds for kids who look a distinctive shade of green or grey. I tell the boys to stay away from anyone claiming to have a sore tummy, even if it’s their best mate. They’re also instructed to not share drink bottles and to wash their hands every 5 seconds even if the other kids start to think they’re the new class weirdo. I don’t care.
Clearly, this doesn’t work because Jack (my eldest) got it. He was at his father’s over the weekend and was sick in the middle of the night. I’m not going to lie, it made me smile a little because my ex-husband is one of those people who gag and heave…… 🙂
Jack was only sick the once and came on the Sunday afternoon only feeling a little tired. With no more signs of projectile used food, I breathed a sigh of relief as they went to bed that night.
My relief was short lived when I woke at 3am to hear that sound. There’s no mistaking it. Crap, shit, buggeration!!! I flew into the bathroom to check on him. Ok, I walked fairly slowly and stood back a fair distance with a horrified look on my face, but I was still there. I got him sorted and we went downstairs while my littlest continued to sleep, unaware of his big brother’s dramas.
After a while Jack’s colour came back. He said he was really hungry, understandable considering the contents of his tiny tummy was on it’s way to swim with some dolphins in the ocean, or wherever it goes after you flush it. I gave him something light to eat and after we got ready (aka shampoo in a can, a bit of deodorant and clothes off my floor) I took Hayden to kindy.
We had driven about 30 seconds when that freakin noise followed by the overwhelming scent of eau de upchuck wafted over us all……IN MY NEW CAR!!!!! I pulled over, rejected the urge to ugly cry, got Jack to finish his business by the side of the road and felt like the best mum in the world as I ignored the traffic driving past my now stripping child. Hayden was screaming from the backseat “GET ME OUT OF HERE, IT’S STIIIIIINNNNKKKKKKKKSSSSSSS”. I contemplated just walking home and leaving them to deal with it. But there’s a hill I’d have to walk up and well, piss that off.
Once Jack was done, I threw him in the front seat and mentally double dared the police to pull me over. We pulled into the driveway as my neighbour watched the three of us hanging our heads out each window like excited Labrador’s. I gave a polite wave, like it was just a normal day out for us, and ran inside.
After Jack had showered I put him in bed and gathered up my HAZMAT materials to clean the F&$#ing vomit from my beautiful Frankie (my car). Once I’d gotten rid of it, I stared at the pile of coated clothes and towels and sponges and thought “stuff it”. I threw everything into the wheelie bin. I can just go and buy new shit, I’m not even attempting to wash that and risk getting bits of food in my washing machine to be shared in every future wash…..nope, nope and nope, all the no’s.
I spent the next three days with Jack upstairs randomly throwing up and Hayden downstairs shitting himself a regular intervals. The number of times I ran up and down those stairs, without an appropriate sports bra, I believe counts as my exercise quota until January 2021. Hayden handles illness much better than my dramatic older mister. He was in hysterics at the atrocious noises coming from his fountainous behind. Farts and boys……..
FYI – I also had to work from home during this time. It’s incredibly professional being on a phone call only for the person on the other end to hear your child yell at the top of his lungs “there’s wees coming from my poo place”.
I’m pretty sure I should get a promotion soon….
So, the eldest is better and the youngest is still pooping. I’m knackered, desperate for a chicken parmigiana (no reason) and nobody should light a match within a 10km radius of my house. My kitchen looks like squatters live here and I’m pretty sure I’m addicted to hand sanitiser. I have managed a shower but still look a little homeless.
I’m done with this week.