*Warning* It's another one of those posts...graphic and pretty much disgusting. Don't say I didn't warn you.
It's an age-old quandry...how much vomit, diarrhea, urine and/or snot can a mother take? Does there come a point at which said mother throws her hands up in defeat and says warily, "I can't take it anymore?" I came precariously close to that precipice, my friends. I was nearly flung from the edge of sanity (it's a recurring theme with me, I know) by the sheer magnitude of horrific liquids spewing forth from my children.
It's been a week's battle with an unnamed stomach virus which has wreaked unimaginable havoc at my house. For four nights straight, I changed pajamas, sheets, pillows, even my own clothes multiple times. It started with Isaac...simply enough, just one random throwing up episode. Then he seemed to be fine. I should have known better, though, since he's my toughest kid. He never gets sick. But sick he was for 6 days straight. Luckily, he knows how to race to the bathroom when he's gotta go. Ironically, Kalena, the weakest stomach in my house, managed to evade the tyrranical bug.
Adam was the next victim, and definitely the most challenging. He gives no warning for vomitous or diarrheal explosions, and so one must be ever watchful for signs of an impending ka-boom. Just the slightest noise from his room in the dead of night meant that he'd thrown up in his sleep again. Poor thing. So we spent one whole night sleeping with him propped up on the couch so he wouldn't run the risk of choking on his own...well, you get the idea.
Sweet little Rowan contributed to the nasties by having a strangely goopy nose that would suddenly have a gigantic green snot-ball hanging from it every time I had just emerged from a massive cleaning mission. So uplifting, let me tell you.
Finally, I, too could not escape the awfulness. One day of horrible stomach pain, fever and chills almost convinced me that it would be worth it for everyone involved if I could just end it all.
I am a veteran of a disgusting war, my friends. I've cleaned beds, floors, couches, even car seats covered in puke this week. Really, I should buy stock in Lysol. I came through the fire and I lived to tell the tale. I pray fervently that whatever this crap was doesn't visit your house any time soon.