On Sleeping Bags and Barf Buckets

What a week. Not too long ago, son #4 brought home a nasty, nasty bug. Not the same one he had at Disney World, mind you. Nope, we think he picked this one up when he was getting x-rayed after possibly swallowing button cell batteries. This particular bug hit him really hard, and it ended up coming out both ends (top first, then bottom before he started getting better). It then moved to son #3. It didn’t hit him quite as hard, but still…

The highlight of his bout with this particular bug was when he snuck a drink of water and ended up having a “splashdown” in the living room. Thankfully most (but not all) of it wound up on the hardwood. Nice. He was equipped with a jumbo tupperware bowl (just in case) and under strict instructions to not eat or drink anything. And yet he still managed to… Well… Let’s just say that he circumvented our best efforts. Just in case he wasn’t done, we put him to bed alongside his Tupperware barf bucket, in a sleeping bag, and on the floor (on top of a nice thick blanket).

It was then Mommy’s turn. And then Daddy’s. Would you like to know the best part of getting sick when you’re a parent? It’s simply this: Once you’ve had the latest bug, you no longer have to worry about getting it when taking care of your sick kids. While the first two were dealing with this, we were hoping to avoid it ourselves. But once we had it, the fear was gone…

Anyway, I digress. Two days ago, son #1 started showing signs. My wife decided to keep him home from school, but nothing really happened. He laid around all day and watched TV, and she started questioning her decision. But by evening he was feeling worse. So after a day of toting the Tupperware barf bucket around with him, we put him to bed in a sleeping bag on the floor with the barf bucket by his side. We also put son #2 on the floor with a barf bucket of his own, just in case. He was complaining that he didn’t feel well, but we couldn’t tell if that was because he was getting sick, or if he just felt left out.

The next morning, I rolled out of bed around 6:40 to get going for the day. When I walked into the living room, I happened upon son #1. He was walking around and looking relatively healthy, so I asked him how he was feeling. His reply?

“Fine. But I threw up at 6:33.” (He’s always kept close track of the time.)

Needless to say, we kept him home for the day, with a barf bucket by his side. Son #2 awoke feeling similarly crappy, so he stayed home, as well. After two more ‘episodes’ son #1 seems to be over it, although he spent the night on the floor, in a sleeping bag, with his barf bucket at his side. Son #2, on the other hand, made it all day without any real problems. So now we’re left to wonder… Did he escape the worst of it, or is there a storm brewing somewhere deep down inside? Only time will tell.