Quarantine

It's that time again!

When your dad is a doctor you sometimes get quarantined when you're sick and can't pass the blue line.

Flu season has hit Winston-Salem like a hairy, vengeful snow-beast, and we've been watching it slowly approach our home (in the form of facebook statuses from everyone we go to church with who, one after another, posted that their kids were throwing up) for the past few weeks. We actually considered staying home from church on Sunday in an effort to miss the epidemic, but after a little contemplation decided that (1) that probably wasn't super spiritual of us and (2) we'd rather they get sick now than on Christmas. Once we decided to go I told Steve that we should just have our kids lick some infected kid just to be sure. (This is a joke. We do not advocate this.)

Yesterday morning I dropped Gracie off at school and brought my other two home. Charlie was in rare form, crabbing about everything from his cereal ("I don't like my Life!") to his beloved Daniel Tiger. He even told me, at one point, that he didn't like me. So as you can imagine, the second it was time for quiet time I had him in bed with the door shut. He'd told me his stomach hurt a couple times, but I didn't give it much credence since he's claimed to be sick once or twice over the past week in an attempt to get my iPad tuned to some kids shows in his bedroom. He cried a little when I put him to bed (as he usually does--often about a loose string on his sweatshirt or because a toy he is playing with is too large to fit into some container; having a baby sister steal your thunder for a while is hard) and I let it go and he fell asleep. Then around 2:30, just before I was about to wake him to go get Grace, I heard his plaintive little voice calling, "Mommy? Mommy....?" from his bedroom. I hurried up the stairs and opened the door to a mess that I will not describe to you. Suffice it to say he had thrown up, and I had to get him cleaned up some so I could take him in the car to get Grace. I paged Steve at work and ran around getting fresh clothes and wiping poor Charlie's hair and face, and then we got in the car.

I am happy to say that having three children has mellowed me even further (which is fantastic, because I was pretty uptight when Steve and I got married--seriously, ask him, he'll tell you) and though I was sad for my baby boy, I wasn't freaking out at all. I had a game plan (I'd given Charlie a sweatshirt just in case when I realized I'd failed to bring a bowl, and I'd decided Juliette would probably have to cry a little while I cleaned Charlie and his bed up as she waited for her feeding) and Steve had called back to say he'd be able to make it home shortly since his shift was pretty much wrapped up. So I actually found it kind of funny when "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas" came on the radio, and then Charlie threw up. Ahhhh, flu season.

He was so sweet about it. Here he is totally losing his stomach and he was just so patient about the fact that he had to be strapped into a carseat while it happened, and then sit in it while we got Grace and for the whole ride home. Happily, Steve pulled in to the driveway as I was taking Juliette out of the car, and I asked him to feed her a bottle while I dunked Charlie in the bath and cleaned up his bed and carpet. (THIS THROW UP CLEANER I found on Pinterest works fantastically, by the way.) Then Steve took a turn with the grossness and hosed off a pile of blankets and Charlie's carseat for me before we threw everything in the wash. And then we took turns taking showers to try to decontaminate.

Oh, and meanwhile Gracie started claiming to be sick, which we thought was because Charlie was getting to watch TV in his bed and she was not. We told her she could lay in her bed and gave her a bucket just in case, but we were pretty sure it was a ploy to get some television because she'd been fine at school all day. But lo and behold, moments after Steve took Juliette downstairs  I heard coughing coming from her room and ran in to rub her back and help her clean up. Poor kiddo. They were both such good sports about it. Charlie even declared it "silly" and laughed after he finished losing his lunch.

Steve set up a quarantine zone with some painter's tape, and they spent the rest of the evening sipping Pedialyte and watching Netflix. Unfortunately the germs didn't seem to respect the line of demarcation, because I woke up feeling a little peaky this morning (so far I'm keeping my food down though) and when I fed Juliette at ten this morning I just had a feeling so I fed her on a blanket so I could keep my bed clean just in case. And the poor thing threw up, too. And then she smiled and cooed at me when she was done. These kids are the best.

So we're hunkered down again. At least its cold and rainy outside. And I have a good book to read. And I don't feel nearly as sick as I did when I was pregnant! :)