With each episode of puking I experience with my children I find strength within myself that I never imagined existed. I have a low tolerance for germs and yuckiness. It puts me into a frenzy of disinfecting and trying to clean EVERYTHING. With small children that just isn't realistic. I have had to surrender my anxieties and tendency to lose my mind in situations where germs are in abundance.
The good ole influenza has visited our house yet again. Rider started the party last week. The weekend was my turn and last night Lydia and Austin ( in that order) took their turns. By last night I was a fine tuned machine. I carefully layed out every towel in the house over my bed. I placed the puke bowels strategically near each patient. I am happy to say we kept it in the confined towel draped areas.
Danny is my trusty partner in all episodes involving throwing up. He was safely away at his beloved potato harvest during this most recent plague. Just to comfort myself I was sure to keep him updated on the number of times each child had puked as if he could do anything about it. This was most often via a text message in the wee hours of the morning. It was usually at the point I was sure that I was down for the count and needed to call in reinforcements. Sheesh! I am such a spaz at times. I am so happy to say that all potatoes within his stewardship are safely tucked in their cozy cellars and he is home. Everyone is happier and appetites seemed to return the minute he walked in the door. My three year old exclaimed when he came home "look Mom, your daddy came back!" He is back and I am grateful beyond words. For now it seems we are all well. I have stopped spraying and wiping everything and EVERYONE with disinfecting wipes and hydrogen peroxide. I am convinced I could never teach or work in a public school. The thought sends a shutter through my spine.
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