We’ve had a crazy couple of days around here. We managed to get out of the house on Tuesday morning, despite the fact that Ana still wasn’t her normal self. I had to get laundry detergent and bread (not to use together, just in case you were wondering), and once we were out in the fresh air and sunshine, Ana perked up immensely. She even decided that we should go and see Wes at his office that morning, which we did. Things were looking up until I got the girls up from their afternoon naps and discovered that Emma had thrown up in her crib. I refused to believe that she was sick with the same bug (sweet, sweet denial) and fed both girls a very bland dinner… which they both threw up afterwards. Argh! (And they both had explosive diapers. Double argh!)

I had to change Emma and her linens at midnight (explosive diaper), then had to change her linens again and bathe her at 4:30 in the morning (throwing up again)… and stupidly gave her water at the breakfast table because she was begging for it. She threw that up soon after. (Yet continued to cry for more. Poor baby!) I put her down on Wes (who still had to get ready for work, but I sure did need the help!), so that I could go and get Ana up and running. She was still acting sluggish, and she had just completed yet another runny diaper. She also managed to give herself a black eye (!!!) during the night on her crib railing, since her thoughtless Mommy removed the padding to wash it and didn’t put it back on before bedtime for fear that it would just get pooed on/thrown up on/otherwise yucked up if she did. After I had her cleaned up and eating a very bland breakfast, I went to pick up Emma, who, as soon as I got her little face at face-level with mine, threw up everything she had ever eaten in her entire life all over my face, in my hair, and down my shirt. It’s official. Nothing grosses me out anymore, y’all. This is the gift that my second born has given to me.

Long story short, I called my parents in Texas and asked them if they could come up and help me for the day while Wes was at work. Just a few hours later when they arrived, Emma threw up for the FINAL (I hope!) time, this time all over my mother. We got her cleaned up, and she spent the rest of the day in and out of naps. Ana, who seemed to be getting better and better by the minute, surprised us all with a potty sucess right before bedtime. (Yay!) My parents stayed in town overnight in case the girls got sick that night and needed their help.

This morning, Ana was totally and completely back to normal. Emma is still sluggish, but she’s keeping her food down. She’s moved into the second part of the bug, so I’m keeping her on immodium, hoping to give her tummy (and our washing machine) a break. I think we’re almost done.

And that was the disgusting update. I sincerely hope that this bug doesn’t visit your home. Ever. There is nothing good or right about a sick child who can’t eat, can’t hardly stand on her own power, and can’t even begin to understand why she feels so bad. What an emotional drain on the entire family!

How about you? Have you got a bad “bug” story to tell? (Hopefully with a great ending like, “and having been through the worst of it, none of them every got sick again, and they all lived happily ever after!” Anyone out there?)

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