Last weekend (not the most recent, but the one before) we had a really great time (refer to the carnival post). But that night, Maria got sick. Not just "I don't feel well" sick, but pukey sick. The kind of sick where in the middle of the night, she turned to me and puked all over my face. That kind of sick.
So we layed low for a couple days.
Daddy went to Washington DC for a Pepsi meeting (I am still forgiving him for leaving me with sick kids) so it was just me and the three little ones.
Monday rolls around and we pick up Maria from school. She's feeling great so we drive up to Moscow for my class. Jamie complains of his tummy hurting, but I am so sure he's faking it. We go get Patrick, he drops me off at my class, and I walk in. Normal. Great. So after about 10 minutes, I get this call from him. He's practically gagging, telling me the kids got sick in the car and that he probably shouldn't watch them.
He comes and gets me and the second I open the door, I am hit with it. That nasty vomit smell. Inside my car. ALL over the kids. I did get a picture of Alice covered in chunky puke, but I won't post it here. For your sake.
The ride home was terrible. Alice kept throwing up and crying, and Jamie was just as sick.
We used a lot of this:
And had to hose off anything Alice and Jamie spewed on:
Thank God for my dad. He met us at the house and while I was bathing the kids, he took care of cleaning my car and the carseats. A really nasty job.
And my poor boy just wanted to ride bikes:
So that day was full of puke. Puke and cleanup, puke and cleanup. Finally, on the 2nd day, I thought they were fine. NO puke during the night and they woke up happy, so I fed them lunch:
I am not a smart mama. 30 minutes later, I was cleaning up noodle chunks off of my bed, my bedroom floor, the hallway and the living room. Again, thank God for my dad. He came over with a carpet cleaner and helped me.
Of course, I got sick after that, then Maria got sick again and then daddy got home! Perfect timing.
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