If you were to walk into our home today, a very distinct aroma would meet your nostrils. It would not be baking bread or a bouquet of honeysuckle, but hurl and diarrhea, with just a hint of lysol. FUUUUUUDGE. And for everyone who knows The Christmas Story.... "Only I didn't say fudge."
So we caught the Rotavirus. Sunday Julia threw up for the first time and didn't stop for three days. She has never been so sick, lying pitifully on the couch gaunt and exausted. She did not eat food for three days straight. Every fifteen minutes I gave her a Tablespoon of Pedialyte, because that was all she could keep down. The diarrhea showed up then and continues to shoot from her rear, muddy and ruthless so that last night when my husband, Mr. "No, it's not the rotavirus" was in charge, he was faced with many an explosivo. Word is, it might stick around for as many as NINE DAYS but in the meantime she's wrapped in a towel so that the next time she "pourps" the laundry I will have to do is minimal. Thankfully she has stopped hurling and has been eating popcorn, grapes and pedialite. We have turned a corner. Still, lively toddlers are not supposed to see four Clifford the Big Red Dogs THAT AREN'T IN THE ROOM or feel "all wobbly" when they walk.
This whole time I was trying to prevent Avery from getting it. She was happy and sweet in comparison to her surly, weak couch potato of a sister. I naively kept her in her high chair or in the playroom, thinking I could actually box the virus out of our house without her catching it. Then today, she hurled with a capital H. It was hurl with a cape, and it shot all over and I wanted to scream. I'm pretty sure I did scream. She now sits limp and lifeless on my lap, her sleeper stained with bile. BABIES ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO DRY HEAVE. WATCHING ONE DO IT DAMAGES THE PSYCHE. This virus has kicked our asses. What a way to end sick season.
To end this post, I will first apologize for the details that have made you unable to finish your lunch. Then, I will utter another double, triple, quadruple cleansing FUDGE, (no, not really what I screamed) suck it up and get back to nursing my girls back to health. We gotta get this house smelling like roses.