Warning - this post involves vomit.
Son 2 had to leave school early because he was pale as a ghost and complained of a sore tummy. Several hours later, I got to see the contents of his stomach, from both ends. It was a joy. What made it more of a joy was knowing that the cheque was in the post and that it was only a matter of time before the rest of us succombed. He stayed pale and wan all weekend and didn't eat a thing, thus scoring a day off school on Monday.
Husband gets on a plane to Seattle and mid-flight the lurgy hits. Cue almost fainting spell in the airplane loo, following by much gritting of teeth for remainder of flight and taxi ride to hotel, before he too could get rid of the contents of his stomach. He hasn't wanted to eat food since. Sadly for him, he is in back to back meetings without the option of lying convalescing in bed. And just to add the cherry on top, today is his birthday, which he will spend feeling ill, sitting in a boardroom before returning to his hotel room to feel sorry for himself. Happy birthday my darling. Here's hoping the rest of the year goes better than today.
Son 2 at home sick. Me still remarkably fine.
All seems well. Son 2 is back at school. Son 1 is eating for Britain. I feel fine. Until 8.30pm. At which point the dogs of hell are unleashed upon me and continued coming until 2am. What a night. Shivering so violently while trying not to fall off the loo while holding something to be sick into. Then breaking out into sweats that literally saw rivulets running down my face, before freezing and shaking again. Finally fall into an uncomfortable sleep at 2.30.
Son 1 crawls into my bed complaining of a very sore head and sore throat. Very high temperature. I rummage in the cupboard trying to find calpol all while desperately hoping to hold onto what remains of the contents of my stomach. After much more back and forth between the bed and the loo, I finally collapse.
Son 2 crawls into bed demanding tea. We all get up. Son 1 gets to stay home. Son 2 has to go to school, but there is no way I'm going to get him there. So I ask a neighbour to take him. Excellent. Ensure son 1 is nurofened up as we're now out of calpol, cancel all work meetings and collapse into bed. Sleep till 12. Son 1 still watching telly. Is there a limit to how much tv a child can watch even if they're poorly? Because I feel we may have maxed it out today.
Text a friend begging them to go buy me some calpol to see me through the night. Thank goodness for lovely neighbours. Watch son 1 throughout the afternoon, waiting for the vomiting to start. Nothing. Just temperature and headache. He wants supper. I take this as a good sign. Son 2 wanted nothing to eat so perhaps it's not the same thing. Still, I try to convince him to have toast and marmite or something innocuous. He insists he wants scrambled egg and baked beans. All I can picture is what this will look like when it comes back up. I can see a new recipe book coming out called: Foods that make acceptable looking vom. Doesn't matter anyway, whatever he eats there will be carrots and sweetcorn.
I am about to put them to bed. But I fear that tonight is going to be another one to notch up on the 'Why being a parent sucks sometimes' board. Wish me luck.