Ever experience something in your life that was a huge ordeal at the time, but laughable when you recalled it much later? That happened to us. We recalled the humongous ordeal it was when my almost-nine-year-old son had the worst stomach bug known to man at the age of 2. We were all laughing to the point of tears while telling the story (I will spare you the details, but it was funny, looking back on it).
I should’ve knocked on wood. Or the window. Or my head, or something.
My almost-two-year-old has it for the first time. Out of nowhere, blam, hi mom, gonna hurl on you now kind of stomach bug, ugh. Given she’s rarely sick, let alone ever thrown up in her life, this is kinda huge. We’re usually celebrating firsts – first tooth, first word, but this.. first barf, uh, not so much.
So after a few gazillion times giving it the ol’ college try all over our carpets, which I suppose needed a good cleaning anyway, she finally decided to sit, as directed, and use every towel we own, no joke. I’m hip deep in laundry as we speak. This ain’t fun.
But no, oh this hasn’t had the last of me, yet. My poor girl is up and down, happy then getting sick, she has no idea what exactly is happening, and the second she pops up thinking all is well out it comes, again.
We’re trying, trying to pump the fluids in her, slowly of course. My beautiful husband comes in to give her some ginger ale, and while he’s here he makes my four-year-old a cup as well, hands him a cup and walks away…
.. then comes screaming back into the room, and in like slow motion he yells “NOOOOO! DOOOON’T DRIIIINK THAAAAAAT!”
But it was too late. He drank it.
It was our daughter’s ginger ale. With her straw.
He drank her drink with her sicky stomach-bug-infested straw.
…
The stomach bug might have won this round, but I will be victorious. Oh yes, I will be victorious..
.. or ending up cowered in the corner conceding defeat while whimpering to myself, not sure which one yet…
