The Flu

WARNING: This post contains numerous references to being sick, the stomach flu, and barfing. I'm sorry. I'm sure no one else finds this interesting but I have to record it for posterity so that Glenn and I can look back on it and say, "Well this *current event* isn't as bad as the Great Stomach Flu of 2012."

When I picked up the kids from school on Thursday, the first thing I saw down the hall was Will, with a face the color of a piece of paper, sitting on the floor staring off into space and I thought, "Uh oh." (The actual words I used were not suitable for a family blog.) Glenn and I had planned our first ever night away from both kids for this weekend. We had previously had one work trip where we both spent the night away from the house but I think I was in Casper and he was not in Casper so it wasn't a romantic get-away. So back to the story.

As I'm picking up Will on Thursday, I'm asking him what's wrong, does he not feel good, does his tummy hurt, etc. and he insists that he's fine. His teacher mentioned that he didn't nap that day and he told me it was because he couldn't lie still. After I picked up a perky Reina, we all headed to the car. See Will knew he was spending the night at Pop-pop and Grandma's house this weekend and he was beyond excited for that. He and Grandma Hansen share an affinity for Capt Jack Sparrow and so several pirate-themed events were planned. Back in the car I told Will that even if he didn't feel good, there was a good chance he'd still get to have his sleepover. With that in mind, he blurted out, "I don't feel well!" Bingo.

Will spent the remainder of Thursday evening on our couch looking wan and refusing to eat (warning bells! warning bells! Will doesn't want to eat!). By the time bedtime rolled around he was barfing and the fun was on.

Long, gross story short, he barfed all night and into the wee hours of the morning. I stayed downstairs with him in a move to stem the germ tide (facts important for the story later) and we both grabbed a few hours of sleep here and there. Mr. Pale Barfy was clearly not going to school on Friday and I had the easier day so I stayed home with him and we sent Reina off to school in an attempt to keep her out of the germ pool and my hair for a few hours. Will seemed to perk up Friday morning but then resumed his spot on the couch and stayed there for hours and hours.

Fast forward to Friday night and I start to feel that certain feeling in my stomach that usually signals only bad things to come. I warned Glenn and also ate a piece of German chocolate cake because I figured if I'm going down, it's going to be in a blaze of glory. For the record, I truly regret that move. I should also note that at this point, Glenn and I are starting to make contingency plans in case the Great Romantic Get Away can't happen. We decide to see how everyone feels in the morning. So we put Reina to bed in her room because she's fine and Will and I stay downstairs in the Germ Zone.

About 15 minutes after lights out I hear Reina crying, Glenn going into her room, Glenn making a noise that is fairly indescribable but that I later found out is the sound of a 42-yr old man stepping into a puddle of vomit in his bare feet. I go upstairs to help even though my stomach is pitching and rolling like one of Will's pirate ships. We decide to move Reina downstairs to Germ Zone, Will back upstairs to his room and I'll stay in the downstairs with Reina. Fast forward a few more minutes and Glenn is running back and forth between Reina and I with a bucket (actually not a bucket but a little green Coleman cooler that I will not ever be able to look at the same way again). It was a really rough few hours. I can sum it up by saying that it's awfully hard to comfort your barfing 2-yr old when all you want to do is push her aside and use the bucket for yourself.

So this morning (Saturday) finally dawns. Reina wakes up chipper and perky, like the evening from you-know-what never happened. She's truly amazing. She claps delightedly at the bubbles in her Sprite while I'm still cautiously sipping on tepid water. She bounces around the room and proudly announces "I frew up last night!" I can hardly lift my head off of the pillow. We are worried she's a vampire or some sort of hybrid X-men type human. Scary. When Glenn wakes up, he brings Will back down to the Germ Zone because Will resumed his barfing in the middle of the night. Interesting side note, Glenn hadn't actually put Will in his room, he put him our bed and that's where he threw up. Repeatedly. (We actually ended up calling Will's doctor because the poor little guy couldn't keep anything down. She prescribed an anti-nausea medicine that seems to be doing the trick. Fingers crossed.) Yeah, romantic get-away postponed.

So in an alternate universe, tonight Lucy and Glenn are finishing up a fancy meal at a non-kids type restaurant and strolling the streets of Estes Park hand-in-hand. Will's watching Pirates of the Caribbean for the fifth time with Grandma. Reina is entertaining Uncle Matt and Aunt Wicky with her detailed and elaborate bedtime postponement routine. But here in the real world, it's 9:09 p.m. and I'm headed back down to the Germ Zone for one more night on the couch to keep an eye on Will. I've got my other eye on Glenn to see if he shows any signs of becoming the fourth member of the Pauley family to succumb. Fingers double crossed.