My First Parental Sick Day

The funny thing is this day was supposed to be a different kind of first. The first day of daycare (well, home daycare). I was thrilled and nervous all at once, as I got myself and my two little ones all prepared for the big day. Lunch was packed, snacks and toys too. Perfectly dressed children. A full diaper bag and my toddler with her back pack, which she decided to take off so that she could climb atop her rocking horse to rock herself out of boredom as we waited for our cab.

About five rodeo style rocks in, she chucked up her breakfast - all over her nice clean outfit, the poor innocent wooden horse, and my living room floor! Vomit was everywhere, I could barely stand the smell and I didn't know where to begin with cleaning it all up either! Frantic as she was, I began to cry as I knelt down and cleaned it all up, quickly - after all, the cab had just pulled up outside! Now of course I should have cancelled it, but I decided that she had thrown up due to the motion of the rocking horse and having just ate. I changed her into a clean outfit as fast as I could, rushed outside, apologized to the driver for the wait and strapped us all in for the ride.

One block away from our destination, and my toddler begins vomitting again! All over herself, and the backseat of the cab! I decide it is time to give up on this expedition. It is obvious that no one is going anywhere today. I tell the cab driver to turn around, and he does. I am sure he can't wait to get us out of the car, as he rolls windows down in the dead of winter to get fresh air. I took out my cell and called the caregiver to cancel for the day.

Back at the house, I rushed the girls inside and returned to the cab with my cleaning supplies in hand, ready to clean more upchuck. The driver tells me it's ok, that he has children and grandchildren of his own and that he can handle it. I feel badly, but I'm also glad I got out of that one!

Chaos in the form of more chucking breaks loose in my house. No, on my house. Literally. It wasn't just my 3 year old anymore, now my 18 month had begun vomitting with every couple crawls or steps she took! That was it. All the towel paper and spray couldn't save me now. It was time to call my mother! I could count on her to insult my fear/crippling disgust of vomit but also to coach me through this breakout of some sort of bug. She assured me that they weren't dying, that no horror movie style infection had been spread, and that (most importantly) this would past. And within 24 hours or so.

So, all I had to do was survive today and make it to the next. I could do that, I thought. After all, they were sleeping alot and when they weren't they were happy to lay down, drink their ginger ale and cola syrup and just be. This was totally survivable...

DAY TWO

It had been 24 hours and the girls were back to their normal, busy selves. The house was smelling more like lysol than vomit, which pleased me for the time being. Everything was fine. I had survived my first day with really,really sick babies. I should have been feeling good about that; but for some reason I didn't. I couldn't feel too good. I wasn't feeling well at all. In fact, it seemed I wouldn't be feeling any better for, say, 24hours!