Crazy Spacey

Literally 15 minutes before we would hit the ER deadline the ped gave us, the toddler finally stopped vomiting long enough to hold down some pedialyte.

She's still not eating much or drinking as much as I would like, but at least my house is no longer being hosed in vomit and, for that, I am grateful.

As it turns out, vomiting toddlers are about as accurate as drunken frat boys when it comes to aim.

So now my house smells like Lysol and, surprisingly, I couldn't tell you which is worse; the acrid carcinogenic scent of Lysol or the sour stench of stomach flu. Both have me pulling my shirt over my mouth.

And not to make this sound like an Oscar acceptance speech or anything, but I am also so grateful the laundry has stopped. Six loads yesterday and then we had to wash things again because they still smelled. The toddler ran out of clothes and we dressed her like a little hobo clown in ill-fitting, mismatched scraps of things from the bottom of her dresser.

Also, if you're wondering why I'm going on and on about this, it's because we're traumatized over here. From seeing our girl so sick and just the tsunami of bodily fluids that attacked us from behind. The hubby and I have been fist-bumping and saying 'we survived the stomach flu of 2012'. At this rate, we'll be making up commemorative T-shirts.

Still this was better than the flu of '07, that one had us all sick at the same time. Going to the bathroom was like a game of musical chairs, one where the loser had to go outside to throw up and then rinse off the neighbor's lawn.

This is all probably more than you wanted to know. I'm too ptsd to be sorry--when your kids do this to you, you'll understand the internet is really for parents to talk about the stomach flu. In detail. No, really.

I continue to hope this is the bug I had a few weeks ago. I'm not sick yet but am really run down adrenal-wise, which puzzles me. Of course, we were up all night and are probably still working with a sleep deficit. Maybe tomorrow will be better.