My kids don’t throw up. As a rule. They just don’t. Colds, sure. Allergies like you wouldn’t believe, the two older ones cough and sneeze their way thru the spring and fall. But throwing up (with the exception of vomit from excessive coughing and post-nasal drip in the middle of the night) is so rare. Which is why I’m just not used to this – maybe it it happened more often, I wouldn’t feel like I’d been run over with a truck.
Poor Sammy starting complaining of an upset stomach yesterday. I thought it was just stress, it was the end of April vacation, maybe there was some anxiety around going back to school. Plus Glennys was leaving too – that always messes him up. But no, he really was sick, and starting seriously throwing up around dinner time. And kept puking, including one notable time when he missed his little bucket he’d been carrying around with him and projectile vomited all over me. He threw up every couple of hours last night – and I don’t think I really slept at all. Every time I’d start to doze off, he’d start Jessie woke up around four thirty or five, and threw up all over herself and the bathroom. Thank goodness for Marc, because at that point, I was so incredibly exhausted that I couldn’t face it. I took care of Jessie and Marc bleached the bathroom.
Sam seems much better this morning. He’s been up for an hour and a half, and is, thus far, keeping down ginger ale. He’s bopping around, playing with Julie and seems to be much better. Jessica Mary is still sleeping, and I’m in no rush to wake her. Julianna, thank goodness, seems to be fine. She’s still nursing, and I’m so grateful for that. Because I know that she either won’t get sick at all, or if she does, it’ll be so much less intense because I can keep her hydrated so much easier. She’s more likely to be able to tolerate breastmilk than anything else.