Things Too Miserable To Grab The Camera During and A Confession

Sunday morning I loaded up the children and headed to church. Not only do I believe it is important to take them to church, but I also believe it is important to take me to church. And I cannot say that the two hours of quiet time I was headed toward didn't cement the decision to go it alone.

The road we head down to get to church looks like this. Only it is a bit more curvy. Thankfully when Elaine got car sick there was a different church right off the road to pull into (we do live in the South and there are more than a few churches to choose from.) I cleaned up the girl best I could, changed her into a clean outfit (a beautiful green hand-me-down onsie from her brother that looked perfect with her pink-bowed shoes), and I promised if it happened again we would go home.


It didn't happen again. I assumed car sick. And we went to church. The girls screamed their fool heads off in the nursery, but by the time I came back everyone was smiling and laughing. "The girls had a wonderful morning!" Car sick was cemented in my brain at that moment.



Sunday evening after naps and Popsicles, Alida pukes in the laundry room. Good girl! Such a smart girl to puke right next to the washing machine, on tile floor and you didn't grab at it! Good girl.



Denial Number 2: You must have gotten too hot outside.



Brilliant Idea Number One: Let's go have dinner.



Alida pukes in her high chair. While still over the tile floor, it was all over her and in her tray. That's right, perfect for playing in. And she starts laughing. We spent the evening waiting for more. None.



Brilliant Idea Number Two: Let's have a bottle and go to bed.



Elaine knocks out. Alida pukes. The boys are at least watching a movie. Put Alida on the floor, she passes out in her blanket. Change sheets; change girl. Back to bed.



And all is well. Monday morning breaks. There are smiles. There are no fevers. There is no puking in the land.



Until 3:45 in the afternoon when daycare calls:



"Mrs. Stuber. I'm calling because of Benjamin.



(In my head: thank goodness it wasn't Alida; I've been waiting for that call all day long. He probably broke his arm or something, no big deal.)



He just threw up all over the playground."



Oh. Bother.



Take Ben home to puke again. Nicholas gets mad at all the attention that Ben is getting, and he pukes now too. Although that little man walked right over to the bucket and aimed well. Thank you son. The boys now get all the attention, and the girls are shuttled upstairs to play in the playroom safety zone on their own while we clean up.



Baths all around. Third load of laundry started. Clorox out. Dishwasher started. Everyone in bed.



(Man, I just want to open the mail because there is a box there from the Duke's mom that I really, really want to see.)



Over the racket of every machine in my house chugging along cleaning everything I could fit in a machine, I missed hearing the ruckus upstairs. However, I made it up to check at least before opening that box and found that Nicholas had made the bucket--and the bed and his clothes and the floor. We go out to get new clothes.



"New, new, new clothes mommy?"

"Yes, son."

"Yeah!"



Who are these people that are happy after they puke?



All are cleaned and tucked in bed with new, new, new sheets, blankets and pillows, and I finish cloroxing the entire house and pass out in the extra bedroom that is close to their room, and that box is still sitting there calling to me right now.



Daycare rule: no temp, no problem. As long as they aren't puking. This morning, no one was puking, all were happy, and there were no fevers. We've made it to 11:30 now. We'll see what the rest of the day holds for us.

Confession: I kind of like it when they are sick. They're really sweet and snuggly.