Well, we made it 4.8 years without being taken down by a family wide stomach bug. I think that's something to be proud of. Last week we got hit by a stomach sickness HARD. It started with Braden and trickled through the rest of us.
The days are a bit of a blur--they mostly consisted of us letting the boys watch copious amounts of whatever they wanted and staying in our pajamas until they got puked on. We did so much laundry. So much. I guess we were lucky that the boys just wanted to lay around and watch TV, because Sol and I were pretty much dead. We took turns sleeping all day while the other tried to keep the troops hydrated and puke free.
Eventually we started to make a turn and the boys started eating more and playing a bit more. (Braden wore that fleece jacket and pjs for probably three days. He didn't even take it off to sleep. I knew he was feeling better when he started running laps around the carpet cleaner we had to rent to clean pukey carpet. I'm not sure why he's being such a knuckle head in these pictures.
Poor Keaton may have had it the worst. He started puking the day before he got his cast off and on day 8 of antibiotics, so his tummy was extra sensitive. He had a few days where he was recovered and then got sick again--and the pediatrician was worried it was an intestinal blockage because it was a bit bile-y (TMI!!!) But apparently it resolved, and he's doing much better now. Which means... no cast, no ear infection, no stomach bug, tooth poked through: time to sleep train. Sorry pal.
We were stuck in our house for five days due to the puke and some unfortunately timed snow days--and eventually I thought to myself: It's really hard to be the kind of mom I want to be with all these kids around. Luckily, I was immediately able to see the irony in that thought. But I was tired--from washing all the towels and sheets and clothes over and over, trying to keep everyone hydrated, comforting sick kids all day and all night. And then from trying to find some way to keep us entertained while we were snowed in and no longer had feeling sick as an excuse for watching TV all day.
All I wanted to do was making the stinking felt and burlap Valentine's bunting I saw on Pinterest. And dehydrate strawberries for the strawberry puppy chow mix the boys were giving out as Valentine's with the cute Valentine treat bags I designed. And I wanted to work out. And possibly NOT hold someone for like 10 minutes. And I wanted the house picked up and perhaps a shower? And a nap? And maybe eat something off a plate while sitting in a chair, rather that standing in the pantry? Granted--some of the things on that list weren't actually important at all. But they felt like they were. And as my Facebook and Instagram feeds filled up with pictures of moms doing cute snow day activities with their kids, I felt kind of defeated. Keaton was still clingy from broken leg/ear infection/puking/teething/LIFE and didn't really give me much freedom. Braden was upset about everything--literally everything. And Finley would not.stop.talking. And the kids were getting in the way of me being a good mom--the nerve.
I'm over it now. I was able to put some of that selfishness aside and decide that being a good mom was listening to ridiculous stories, holding sick kids, and cleaning gross stuff up. And that not having dehydrated strawberries in the puppy chow probably wasn't going to ruin their childhood too much. But I suppose we will find out from their therapists in a decade or so...