When is too much vomit ENOUGH??

Last week was rough. We played "sick rolls down hill" and the cootie bug worked it's way from Paco, to me, to Ace, and then Deuce. Luckily, Trey missed getting sick this time. (However, he didn't escape completely unharmed.) The rest of us, well, we all took turns worshiping the porcelain god.

Paco was first in line. And, I must say that Paco is quite possibly the worst sick person EV-VER. Men just don't know how to be sick gracefully. They have to let you know that they are sicker, pukier, and more feverish than anyone else ever was. I mean, how could anyone that has given birth to three children even have a remote clue as to the level of pain that illness can bring? He even dared utter the phrase "you have no idea how sick I am right now." Suddenly we are competing in the battle of the sick-os. AND, he feels it necessary that I personally tend to his every need. (And even when he is sick, he thinks he has those needs. "OK, puke-breath, back-off. My pills don't make me that happy. Brush your teeth and then we'll talk.")

As a matter of fact I DID know how sick he was because within a matter of hours, I was going through the exact same thing. And, while sick, I still managed to do two loads of laundry, make dinner, bathe the kids, and empty the dishwasher. All I needed was a little ginger ale to keep me going. (And yes, I did call Paco at work and make him stop and get me some more ginger ale, therefore, he feels that he is single-handedly responsible for my speedy recovery.)

However, the boys, well, they seemed to get the worst of it. I think they both puked more than twice their body weight worth of liquid. I dealt with so much vomit over the course of 3 days that I am now an Expert Vomitologist.

And, as an Expert Vomitologist, I feel compelled to warn you all of the dangers of allowing a sick child to sleep in the top bunk. My precious son Deuce woke up in the middle of the night needing to vomit. Instead of using the puke-bucket I had lovingly placed by his head, he decided to lean over the side of the bunk bed and let it all loose. However, we have those fancy T-shaped bunk beds, and the stream of bile managed to land square on top of a sleeping Trey. You see, Trey likes to squish all the way down in the covers and sleep at the very bottom of the bed. So, Deuce's vomit was a direct missile onto Trey's head. (and neck, and arms, and chest, and the sheets, blanket, comforter, rug, etc. . . )

So, Paco is trying to pull down the puking kid from the top bunk and I am trying to comfort the half-asleep 4 year old that is screaming "stop puuuuuuuking on me broller." Hmmm, there isn't anything about comforting a sleepy child covered in his brother's vomit in the parenting manual, so I am forced to wing it. I decide to remove Trey's pajamas, give him a quick wipe down, and put both kids in bed with us. I shut the door to their room and decide that I will deal with the mess in the morning.

Needless to say, morning came much too fast, and I had quite a clean-up job ahead of me. I scrubbed, steam-cleaned, disinfected, and washed every stitch of bedding in the house.

I am proud to say that we are all healthy at the moment, and we are looking forward to our upcoming trip to Myrtle Beach. I can only hope that we are able to leave the puke-buckets behind . . .