Rough

That's how things have been in our house lately. Let me explain...


Tuesday through Sunday of last week, Megan was sick. What started out as a cold turned into an ear infection, then a sore throat, then a cough, then croup. By Thursday, Kevin had a cold with a nasty sinus infection too. True to his wussy male nature, although Megan was at least 5 times sicker than Kevin, he acted about 10 times sicker than her.

On Friday night, Megan had a coughing fit in the middle of the night. It culminated in much throwing up (by her) into my cupped hands. (Don't ask.) Once I realized it was going to overflow the confines of my meager receptacles, I handily placed the puke in the middle of her bed (hey, she's got a waterproof mattress pad, it's all good) and took her to the bathroom. At this point, she had vomit all down the front of her pajamas, I had vomit all down the front of my pajamas, it was not pretty. I got her to hang her head over the toilet -- surely a strange concept to a 3 year old -- and puke in there some more.

Let me remind you that I'm pretty pukey myself these days still. I'm far better than I was 3 or 4 weeks ago, but it's still a dicey situation at times. Sooooo . . . this is how it went. Megan puked into the toilet. Leah puked into the toilet. Megan puked into the toilet. Leah puked into the toilet. It was quite the bonding experience. Luckily she was so engrossed in her own agony that I don't even think she noticed that I was puking alongside her.

We all got cleaned up and actually got a few hours of decent sleep that night. No more puking for either of us.

Until Monday. New scene: I'm at the airport. Currently I'm in Kansas.City until tomorrow (Wednesday) for work. In the 5 years I've worked at this company, I had to travel only 1 other time and I brought her with me. So this is sort of traumatic, being away from her for 3 days and 2 nights. It was good timing, however because I was out of my mind excited about the prospect of sleeping. By myself. In a big bed. For many hours on end. I was positively giddy about it. I was a little worried that I was going to come down with this nasty cold that everyone else in my family has, but I prayed for the best.

Anyway, I'm at the airport for my 1pm flight. I ate a quick lunch before leaving home so I didn't have to eat crappy airport food. As I was standing in line at the security checkpoint, I realized something smelled funny. I proceeded about my business, putting my laptop on the belt, taking off my shoes, etc. It was then that I realized the yucky smell was actually the man in front of me. Clearly he hadn't showered for days. He smelled riper than a banana in Hell. Like a total jackass, I didn't believe it could be a fellow human that smelled this badly, so I took a big whiff. Baaaad idea.

In a split second, I was puking. No, I'm not kidding. Right in the security line. Thankfully I was next to a stack of those gray containers that you use to put your personal belongings in which pass through the x-ray machine. So I ralphed into one of them. Nice. Even worse than that? Unbeknownst to me, I had a sympathy puker in line behind me. As soon as I started heaving, this lady behind me threw up as well. She was not so lucky, she didn't make it to the fancy gray containers. She puked right on the carpet. And her shoes.

I wish I could say I make this shit up, but I don't. After much profuse apologizing and an offer to even give the sympathy puker my shoes to wear, I staggered off to my gate. Where I enjoyed a 1 hour delay. Sweet. Luckily, I keep a travel toothbrush and toothpaste in my purse so after a trip to the ladies room, I was fresh as a daisy. More or less.

Can't get enough of puking stories? Well, read on. I swear I will post tomorrow with some other subject matter.

I made it here to Kansas.City just fine. A limo picked me and 2 other folks up from the airport to took us to the hotel. I checked into my uber fancy hotel room with my uber comfy bed and couldn't have been happier. There was a group dinner that evening, but I seriously considered just spending the night with a room service sandwich in the warm, loving embrace of this magical bedding. But, no, I am a team player. I went to dinner with the group.

It was a great dinner. Goat cheese, spinach and artichoke tart. Delicious house salad. Steak with mashed potatoes, asparagus and baby carrots. Then creme brulee for dessert. Aaaaah. I took great care to eat very, very small portions because otherwise it spells sure doom for my stomach. I still ate more than I normally would (these days), but definitely didn't go overboard.

We walked back to the hotel and I was feeling pretty good. Everyone else headed to the bar for some drinks, but that bed was calling sweetly to me, so I headed upstairs. As I was waiting for the elevator, I realized something was amiss. It felt like a tiny demon had jumped onto my torso and was wildly stabbing me in the gut with dozens of tiny daggers. I literally gasped out loud at the pain.

I thought, surely God wouldn't ruin my night of good sleep. I decided to pretend like this isn't happening and go upstairs. I will spare you the excruciating details of the rest of the night, but suffice it to say that I either had a wicked case of food poisoning or a nasty, nasty GI bug.

I managed to get exactly 2 hours and 10 minutes of sleep all night long. One full hour of that was spent on the deliciously cool marble of the bathroom floor. I puked so violently so many times that it was coming out of my nose. I had bowel pains so bad that I was honestly writhing around in my fancy, fluffy, useless bed begging no one in particular for mercy.

By the light of morning, I was fully cleaned out. Not a drop of food anywhere in my entire digestive tract. The straight hour of dry heaves ensured that, as did the potty time (picture the other bodily exit for food) which rivaled the ugliest horror flick you can imagine.

Out of the 50 or so of us at dinner last night, I did manage to find 2 other people who got sick as well. But since we all ate the same thing, I guess it wasn't food poisoning. Whatever it was, I wouldn't wish it on my worst, worst enemy in the Universe.

Today I was determined to eat. Not only did my stomach growl and echo like Luray.Caverns, this entire event is chocked full of delicious food. I ate ridiculously tiny portions, but did manage to get at least something down at each meal. Tonight's dinner was a full-on Kansas.City BBQ. I must have looked like a raving lunatic when I sat down at the table with my measely teaspoon or so of each type of food. But I don't care. Right now, I'm not puking and I'm not doubled over in pain. This is a small victory.

Once again, the bed is calling to me. I will go hopefully succumb to sweet, sweet sleep. Wish me luck, but most of all please wish me some digestive health. I'm tired of feeling like my insides have been cleaned out with battery acid and live maggots.

There is much going on in the blogsphere right now -- surprise BFPs, incredible sadness, and a need to vote for Mel. (She's pulled into 2nd place!) I will try to touch on those things tomorrow. Good night, sleep tight, and for the love of Pete, don't let the bed bugs bite.