I drug my sleeping body out of bed, ran a brush through my unkempt hair, and threw on my exercise clothes. The mound of laudry that had appeared in two days from overnight accidents was enough to send into a grouchy mood. I shuffled out to the kitched, fighting off the grouchies, and worked on breakfast and dishes while the kids got dressed for school.
“Mommy, I feel sick,” Emmy’s nearly inaudible voice crossed the counter to my ears.
“You okay honey? ”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to eat.”
I hand her a bowl for just in case and sent her off to the couch. 10 minutes later she proclaimed herself better and came back to eat. She was full again after two bites. I debated about whether I should go walking. “Are you sure you are up to riding in the cart while I walk?” I asked for what seemed to both of us the millionth time. “I’m sure mommy. I don’t even feel sick anymore.”
In the end she convinced me. After a 10 minute search for my keys (which I remembered had been carted into my bedroom and found underneath a sock on my dresser) we were on our way. I had maybe gone half a mile when I had the thought to check on her. I pulled an earphone out (it wasn’t very loud, but she talks pretty soft sometimes) and leaned my head around so I could see in.
“Oh, honey, why didn’t you tell me you threw up.”
She whispered something inaudible.
“Are you okay?” I asked
“No,” she said, looking pale and miserable. Luckily we were only a 1/2 mile from home and we made it back quickly. After she was showered and glad in fuzzy toed pajamas we watched “Curious George” from under mounds of balnkets. (poor kid)
A couple hours passed and she proclaimed that she was hungry. I suddenly realized that no one had been sick in a while and that we were completely out of ‘sick food’. “Are you up to going to the store?”
“Are you sure?”
“Are you really sure?”
“Yes. See mom,” she holds up her shiney clean bowl, “I haven’t thrown up!”
I got the kids in the car and went to grab my keys. Ummm . . . where were my keys?
“Not again,” I groaned. “This can’t possibly happen twice in one day.” I looked everywhere, under couches, in couches, behind couches, in the bathroom, in the trash can, in the toilet, and still no keys were found. “I have to find my keys! Aaahh!” I cried in frustration while chomping on the side of my tongue.
I picked up the phone and called Paul to see if he knew where my spare was. “I cand fine my key.”
“I ost my key agin, cand fine my pare, we need ick foo, an I it my ongue.”
Midst numerous chuckles I finally get an answer, “The last I saw your spare it was hanging in the key spot.”
“It ot ere! I-” I stepped outside to look at the cart. “Oh.”
“What?” he continued laughing.
“I et em on op of e cart en I was etting Em aken are of.”
He then bursts out laughing, and I realize that I have now wasted another 20 minutes hunting down keys and such. I finally make it out the door, get to the store, buy the sick food I am in need of (and I stock up on it, if one kid is sick, the others are sure to follow), go to the bank and make it home with out any major (or minor) catastrophe.
So here I am, no school for the kids for the next three days and I feel like I am getting down in the trenches as the onslaught of tummy bug settles in for a long battle. But I am armed at least and prepared . . . well, maybe not quite . . .
maybe I should stratigically place some more clean shiny bowls around the house . . . just in case. 🙂
(Oh, and the swelling on my tongue has finally gone down so I’m not talking funny anymore) heh.