A vomitous adventure

Yes, vomit is still the word of the day around here. I spent the day scrubbing the kitchen and cleaning mouse poop. (Note: The traps are single use only and they work very well.) Every dish has gone through the dishwasher on the sanitizer cycle. Cabinets are all washed out with two still waiting. Wait. Make that three. I forgot about under the sink. Ick. I still need to clean the hutch and go through all that stuff. But guess what? I HAVE A KITCHEN COUNTER! YAY!

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Charlie was having a hard time with his math so I printed out an extra worksheet to give him more practice. He was complaining of a tummy ache and I figured it might be the stomach virus that Hannah and I had, but I also knew he could be trying to get out of math. So, I told him to go poop and get back to work. He goes to the bathroom, then comes in the kitchen to play with the US Presidents puzzle saying he needed a break from math. "Fine. You had your break, get back to work." Ten minutes later, he is in the bathroom vomiting. Lovely.

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Meanwhile, Bethany has been complaining of a tummy ache saying her belly button hurts. So I keep an eye on her, but she is showing no signs of getting ready to vomit.

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Meanwhile, I am cleaning out cabinets, running every dish through the dishwasher, cleaning up mouse droppings, going through things, tossing stuff we don't need, organizing stuff we do use, and M and her family stop by for a visit. Her girls take off their boots and hats and coats and mittens and immediately hug Bethany and Hannah and want to hug Charlie. (I stop them with Charlie due to the whole throwing up thing.) They all (with the exception of poor Charlie) head downstairs. M looks around and says "I see you're in the middle of a project." I get down off the step stool (we have an open door policy so they just walk right in like I do there) wash my hands and hold "my baby." I apologize about the house not exactly being baby proof at that moment as I hold J and give M a hug. J still amazes me with all he has over come. There aren't too many babies that survive being born at 25 weeks gestation. It was Christmas Eve last year that he went to the breast for the first time. He has never had a bottle (was fed through a feeding tube) and has never had formula. M did a LOT of pumping. I digress. A story over at Wyatt's site got me thinking about M and the miracle that J is.

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Anyway, M helped out in the kitchen, kept the children occupied while the dads went out to take care of the animals. In the middle of all of this, Bethany comes in the kitchen (that M just swept) and vomited. Once that was all cleaned up, I sent her to bed with Charlie. She was upset because she wanted to play with K and G. (The two girls.) I told her no, that while I know she is sad about that, we don't want to get J sick. Sad, but understanding, she laid down.

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When the guys came back in, M and I took off and picked up some pizza. We decided that once all the illness was done, she and I were running away together where there would be no children, no vomit, no diapers, and no babies lifting shirts. We figure in about 20 years or so, we can fulfill that dream.