Katie has a new nickname for her baby sister. Normally it’s cutie patatootie or sweetie. The last couple of days she has started calling her ‘my little barf-head.’ It’s not exactly the cutest term of endearment that she has come up with but accurate none-the-less. The baby started off her day by throwing up on the kitchen floor.
I started feeling sick last night. Claire is now somewhat of an expert on the stomach flu and immediately offered some advice.
Claire- “Don’t look at anything what looks like fudge, because it looks like throw up.”
I avoided looking at fudge but rapidly progressed to full-blown stomach flu anyway. DH (which I must say yet again, does NOT stand for darling husband) and William became ill as well. I had to fight William for the upstairs bathroom using the rationale that I couldn’t deal with the smaller downstairs one with a messed up knee. I won and William relocated to the couch.
I was forced to run (or some semblance of running) to the bathroom. I was violently ill and decided to just stay in the bathroom for a while. I grabbed a towel off the floor to make myself a little bed in front of the toilet. It’s amazing just how quickly my inner-homeless person comes out during an acute illness.
Claire was very helpful and continued offering to help. She was back and forth between William and me getting us drinks and giving more advice.
“You can only take little drinks or you’ll get sick again. That’s what happened to me.”
Then I would drink half a glass of water while whining, “But I’m thirsty.” Claire would just roll her eyes as I hobbled back to my hobo camp in the bathroom.