It's for people buying LYSOL.
Let me back up. This is a long one, so you'd better make sure you pee AND get another cup of coffee before you go below the fold.
Yesterday, the phone rang. It was the school nurse, telling me that Emma had a headache. It was 2:30 - she'd just hold her in the office until 3:00 dismissal. I wasn't alarmed - Emma has a history of headaches, doesn't always wear her glasses when reading. and her classroom is really loud. The school has a note for motrin, and the nurse is competent and familiar with my child. I arrived at school and grabbed my daughter, who admittedly did look a little pale and iffy - but by the time we got home, she'd bounded back beautifully.
Looks can be deceiving.
She sat up in her bed and threw up on the floor. On my feet.
I yelled, "Grab her! Take her into the bathroom!" to which my husband responded with Rookie Mistake #671 - "Why? She's already thrown up on the floor - she can't have anything else to throw up!"
Everyone, together now - Oooooohhh, no, he didn't.
She proceeded to toss and hurl and toss some more, while I grabbed stuff to keep it clear and he watched with jaw agape. I'm what's commonly known as a sympathy puker, and so if he's home, it goes to him to clean. I got her cleaned up and he ran for the industrial vacuum -
which was full of leaves and yard debris that had apparently not been dumped and were somewhat, slightly, sort of, MOLDY. And when he used the vacuum, the exhaust of those leaves filled the room with a vile and odiferous stench. It was *so* not a pleasant time to be in our house.
Fast forward: 9:30. She'd been laid in our bed, along with her sister, as their room was by this point completely uninhabitable. (I have to give mad props to my husband, though - he cleaned up the entire mess. Except that it still smelled.) When I checked on her, it was to discover that she'd thrown up in her sleep -all over my bed and new comforter. Cleaned her up, changed the bedding, pulled the futon into another kid's room, laid the girls on that - and my anxiety kid had a panic attack. What if *I* throw up? I hate throwing up! I can't sleep in here, she's grinding her teeth and it's too much noise! I can't sleep, I can't sleep, What if I can't get to sleep, I'm going to be too tired tomorrow - it went on and on and on.
And in the middle of it, she tossed her cookies AGAIN. This time, on the bathroom floor, and my husband discovered that we were out of Lysol. No, not strictly true, for I don't BUY Lysol. I use mostly organic and natural cleaners and Lysol makes me nuts - but he wanted it for the floor and so I went to the grocery. 10:30 by this time. I grabbed Lysol, enzyme cleaner for carpets, and COFFEE for the morning. At least I got to see my friend who works at the grocery. (Kidding. He's not my friend, but I see him so often that I feel like I should have him over for dinner, or at the very least, Friend him on Facebook.) Gave the Lysol to my husband, completely lost all cool with my anxiety kid, and went back to check on my husband -
Who told me that the spray top for the Lysol was broken. Which sent me back to the store, where I told my "friend" Nothing personal, but I don't want to see you again, to which he replied, See you tomorrow!
To come home to find my husband still cleaning the carpet, my anxiety kid still freaking out and my daughter still throwing up.
12:45. Everyone cleaned, everyone in bed, girls on the futon. I crawled into my bed - to be followed by Emma, who complained that her stomach hurt.
1:00-2:15 attempted to sleep while my husband snores and my daughter alternately moaned and cried and ground her teeth. Gave up, went to lay on the futon with Riley under a single sheet, shivering. Slept until...
3:15, when the kid threw up again. I heard it going down and ran into the bathroom, to find that someone had left the toilet lid down, and so she'd christened the lid of the toilet and the surrounding floor. Have a bitter argument over the fact that she SHOULDN'T still be throwing up, her stomach SHOULD be empty, HOW was this still happening???
I have no idea. Ask her stomach.
So far today, I've had two girls welcome a special "friend", a fourth kid with a stomach ache who earned a day home, emptied an entire box of baking soda on the stinky carpet, washed five loads of wash and walked anxiety kid through yet anothe panic attack, when the rolling bookbag handle broke as said child was getting out of the car at school, necessitating parking of the van and walking the child in to school carrying the 25 pound bookbag that is much too heavy for a kid to carry. I've located a second one, so I've got to figure out how to get it up to school, take my husband his phone (which he left in the condemned bedroom), destench the room, fumigate the entire house, and segregate the sick kid.
All on about 3 hours of sleep. Hey - at least I got a blog post out of this, right?