It ain’t a pretty picture, y’all.
We had a wonderful low key Christmas at home here in Greenwood, MS. Shuggie came to visit for a few days and the girls enjoyed playing with a few new things and being at home. Zeb used his remaing vacation days for the year to be at home with us and built the girls the most amazing sets of bunk beds you’ve ever seen in your life. If you follow me on Facebook, (And if you don’t, what’s the hold up? ) you have probably seen pics.
My sister-in-law was expecting her third child and since being great with child with two kids out of school for weeks is a situation I undertand, I offered to bring her kids to my house for a couple of days so she could lie in the bed, eat icecream and watch Netflix.
We met Gracie and Dubbie (heretofore known as Patient Zero) in Columbus, MS at a Chic-Fil-A and headed to my house for a few days. We had one and half days of cousin fun. All five girls squeezed into brand new bunks, chased Moses around the yard, used popcorn like confetti in my living room and played so hard that they passed out in seconds at night.
And then.
In the middle of the night, poor little three-year-old Dubbie (her nickname) began vomiting violently. My sweet, sweet, amazing, precious, handsome, manly man husband didn’t even wake me up. You read that right. He spent the entire night in the bathroom with our niece and cleaning up vomit. Early the next morning we packed everybody up and my mother drove Dubbie and Gracie home, in hopes that the virus wouldn’t spread to my family.
Yeah. That didn’t work.
Forty-eight hours later, Aubrey, my oldest threw up at the dinner table. I spent the night in the bed with her and in the wee hours was woken by the sounds of Zeb doing the same. Twelve hours later I turned green. The next 3-4 days are a blur. I literally can’t tell you anything that happened during that time frame other than I got up from the bed, walked to the bathroom, then got back in the bed. At one point I walked down the hall and glanced into the living room to see Zeb passed out on the couch, partially covered with a pink princess blanket.
Emma and Sadie were on mattresses and cushions all over the floor and scattered between them were multiple bowls, paper towels, tissues and half drunk cups of Gatorade. I briefly wondered what the heck was going on in that room but then I was back in the bed and unconscious.
The next week I spent washing every towel, washcloth, set of sheets in the house. Two of my besties, Forrest and Paul, lent me a carpet shampooer— having a friend with a carpet shampooer is better than having a friend with a boat or a pool. I shampooed every rug in the house. Twice.
The whole family was wiped out and writing a column was laughable. We were living on chicken broth and sips of Gatorade for a long while there.
But Sadie just told me she was going spelunking tomorrow and I have no idea really what that is, how she knows what that is and/or if she actually intends on going spelunking. So that should give me something to write about for next week. And the bright side? I met my 2014 resolution before the clock ever struck midnight on December 31st. That last 10 pounds? Gone.
