Surviving Armageddon

My worst nightmare came true this weekend.

Everything was going fine. Friday afternoon we made what will (hopefully) be our last vehicle purchase for a long, long time. Afterwards, we dropped the kids off at the sitters and had a completely wonderful date night at one of our favorite restaurants.

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We had onion rings with ranch dressing. Pizza. We finished with a cinnamon roll cheesecake dish that was out of this world!

I thought to myself, “How could our lives possibly be any better than they are right now?”

This next part is not for the faint of stomach:

At almost exactly 5 am the next morning, I groaned out, “Marcus! I need you to get me a bucket and a glass of water! I feel sick!” He hopped up to rescue me, and I started the vomiting marathon. Within 10 minutes he followed suit. You know how you feel a little relief right after you throw up? That relief can’t possibly last more than 5 minutes when the vomiting starts coming every 30 minutes. And we just lay there. At now 5:30 am. Realizing any and all plans of ours would be canceled for the day and that we had about one hour before our kids woke up.

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What the heck do you do on a day like that?

The way it came on both of us so hard at the exact same time… It had to be food poisoning. But we still didn’t want to infect the kids in case we were wrong. I was laying on my back praying for sweet death. My darling husband had a pillow and blanket on the bathroom floor snuggled up to the toilet. We took shifts laying in the living room with the children. At one point early morning, I had just barfed and had about 5 minutes of strength and the presence of mind to use those minutes as efficiently as possible. I cut up a banana, filled up the sippy cups, put an open loaf of bread on the kitchen table and told my oldest to eat as much as he wanted, sharing with his baby brother. That’s what they ate that day. Bread and bananas. That’s as much food prep as we could stand up for.

My oldest still requires quite a bit of assistance on the potty, so they were both in diapers (that were changed only when absolutely necessary.) In the middle of one of my shifts with the kids, I attempted to change a diaper that I couldn’t finish. Marcus stumbled in to rescue me (and the half changed infant) just as I toppled over and barfed on the carpet.

But I mean, what can you do? It’s the sort of thing where the only appropriate reinforcements would be our parents, and they’re all 8 hours away. We have lots of wonderful friends up here, but you can’t ask them to expose themselves to something that vile! I even have a nephew and niece that aren’t so far away, but I wouldn’t wish living death on any of them!

At one point I thought, “How could I get us all admitted to the hospital?” At another point I wondered if I could call CPS for just one day. We were certainly unfit parents at the moment.

Then, at about 6 PM, I sat up. I sat up!!! Not because I had to but because I felt like I actually COULD! And I walked to the living room! And I spoke to my husband who was also profoundly improved! And we actually spoke words to each other, besides “Help!” and “Are you okay?!” And we laughed together because we. had. survived. the. apocalypse.

It was over! Just over 12 hours later! We had survived the worst day of our lives!

Then our oldest walked up and said, “My belly hurts…”

Guess it wasn’t food poisoning!
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About 12 hours later, he got better, too, but now he’s sick again! Can’t believe how sick we’ve been this year! The moral of the story? Make sure you’ve got everything you need in your house for an outbreak! If you don’t have parents nearby, make sure you’ve at least got something you can easily feed your kids if you find yourself suddenly bedridden and contagious! Lesson learned!

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