Pre P.S.:Kate claims this is way too vivid and way too much information. She wants it noted that she led the charge at 3:00 a.m. and SHE was the first. She wants credit for the 5 extra hours of suffering (I tell you, personality analysis by puking, it’s the truth).
We have Kate here for a week. Six and a half days, really. If you were the kind of mom who counted the moments with her children. Two and two halves of those days included company at our home. Two days included being guests with others. One included an out of town activity. We had reserved yesterday, Sunday, as our family day. I didn’t have anything planned, but imagined it would include lazing around, newspaper reading and coffee drinking, dog walking, movie watching, leftover eating, game playing and chatting. It would also include staying in our pajamas for a significant amount of the day. I was right about that last part.
The day was, indeed, a family bonding day. At 7:37 am (I am nothing, if I am not a clock watcher), all four of us puked at exactly the same time. Perfect synchronization. A bug had been floating though our house since Christmas Eve, touching Alex briefly, bringing Grandpa down for most of Christmas, and saving his big guns for our unsuspecting family on Sunday.
It was kind of wonderfully horrible. We were all sick, all moaning, all sore. Woeful, we were. We moved from bed to sofa to bathroom floor, dragging our pillows and quilts with us. There was one very special period when Alex was laying on the bathroom floor and I was laying on the hallway floor next to her. We never turned on the lights or the tv, or the music. I felt like we were in our own little puke pod.
Kate, who is the power puker of the family, making it a sport to see if she can get to the toilet, told me there was no place she’d rather be puking than right here with us. She also described, in detail, why toilets are the best, because they provide so many options and opportunities. She was totally independent and really provided some incredible sound effects. Alex is the organized puker, and uses multiple bowls, preferring to sit up, with her hair in a neat ponytail. She takes no pride in her pukemanship and was horrified to have done her deed with eggs, making her body a no-egg zone for the rest of her life (which is kind of horrifying). She moans a bit, but is pretty upset when she feels her athletic body is betraying her. Steve, get this….Steve puked for the first time in the 33 years I have known him. I was kind of excited about that. He also moans, interspersed with non-creative cussing (just one word, the big one, under his breath). Of course, after my two pregnancies, I take pride in being the one who can puke on the go, and used the kitchen sink (well, I didn’t mean to, but as I was cleaning out bowls and pans, it was a two-fer).
Our good neighbor, Judy, left two bottles of ginger ale on our door step, and by the afternoon we could sip. I even had bendy straws, yet another miracle. Steve was in bed until 7 pm, and when he got up he made a fire, with real wood, not the fake logs. Alex was on the floor, under the Christmas tree. Kate was on the sofa. Toby wasn’t quite as forlorn. Of course, I was in my chair.
Steve said, “I can’t believe our timing.” I said, “I know, isn’t it perfect?”
I feel great today, a little slow, but drinking coffee (always a good sign). I knew my mantra this Christmas needed to be “flexibility”. And so it was.