ill spent days

Like many of the approximately 100 million viewers of the super bowl last night, The Deistette and I had plans for the game.  We’re not real big sports people but we were really looking forward to a kid friendly, grown up party. I mean it’s the first time in the almost five years we’ve been married we actually had a super bowl party to attend… probably because we’re not big sports people. I honestly can’t remember the last time I went to a super bowl gathering though it’s been that long.  I think it was when da Bearsss had that horrific super bowl shuffle song and The Fridge helped them to a super bowl win.

So… yeah. It’s been a while.  We were both looking forward to it.  I mean, The Deistette even made a HUGE batch of really tasty buffalo chicken potstickers. All four of us got in on the assembly of putting dollups of meat into 100 wonton wrappers that were specifically for the party our friends had invited us to.

But as The Fates would have it, there was a different plan.

Sunday morning about 4:30am, my younger stepson came to our room and woke us up complaining that his stomach hurt and that he had thrown up. Momma got up and helped him back to his bathroom and tried to make him as comfy as possible but hey… how comfortable can you be with your arms wrapped around a toilet and your guts wrenching.  His kitty cat sat with him so at least someone in the house was with him in solidarity.

I was trying to go back to sleep because I knew I would have a long day ahead of me. We had church to go to, then I was supposed to go to an open house my sister the new Realtor was hosting and then the super bowl party.

It may have been an hour and a half or so that passed but it felt like five minutes when about 6:30 or so he began howling and crying about how his stomach hurt and he continued to barf a little more.  Momma had gone downstairs after she had calmed him down the first time to sit on the couch and read or more likely doze.

In a futile attempt I tried to sleep a little more because I figured The Deistette had things under control but it was useless. About 20 till 8, she woke me and said I should probably try to start getting ready for church early so I could take myself and the older boy out of the house just in case this was a stomach bug and not something the younger one ate.

So we did. He and I had a great time at the new UU church we’re attending. The boy helped out with the Souper Bowl of Caring (actually that is a topic for another post. We are quite proud of how our older boy has become quite thoughtful about wanting to help others and his genuine concern for those less fortunate). Adult Sunday School was on Taoist thought… very complex but something I really needed to hear and be reminded of. The sermon was wonderful and the choir absolutely excellent.

So while we’d been gone (believe it or not for almost five hours), the younger boy still felt kinda puny but much better than he had in the morning. No puking but no appetite and he wasn’t drinking which was concerning.

Ugh… Then I started feeling it. A dull nausea came over me and about 4:00pm, half an hour before kick-off. I was pretty sure it was the nasty ass tacos I had eaten at lunch after church. But because we didn’t know for certain if we were coming down with a bug or not, we didn’t want to chance it.  So we decided not to go to the party and subject others to a possible stomach bug especially after we had all put together the potstickers.

The older boy was pretty upset… well, we all were. His best friend since kindergarten is whose parents invited us over and they don’t see each other outside of school as much as they would like. Her sister is also very good friends with our younger one as well.

It was a good call on our part though because about 8:30 or so our older one puked a little and started feeling puny. Then about 9:00pm our younger one barfed his guts up after attempting to drink water, a little gatorade and a plain bagel.  I have to admit… it was pretty amazing. I didn’t know such a small body could puke that much.

He got up from the table as quickly as he could but couldn’t hold it in. Momma was right near him and moved toward him to try and steer him toward the kitchen sink but to no avail. She was right in the drop zone.

He barfed on himself, all over the floor, backblast hit the curtains behind him, residual splashes landed on The Deistette’s shoes, a little on the table and I think the dog got hit a little. No prob, the other dog licked it off so there’s that. I know what you’re thinking. Go ahead and say it.  I did, too.

All together now… Ew!

So my long time readers might remember that I and The Deistette are not towering giants of people. She is quite diminutive… weighing all of about 97 pounds on her 5 foot tall frame. I wouldn’t exactly call her strong either but in that moment she snatched the boy up, cradled him in her arms and moved up the stairs like some sort of superhero. Put her in tight red spandex, thigh high boots, a blue bustier with a cape and…

well I probably wouldn’t have been thinking about puke. :mrgreen:

I sprung into action myself on the barf front. I don’t know if it was instinct,  intuitive parenting reflex or a simple need to kill the overpowering smell. But I immediately started boiling water and got out the mop bucket. After a few dry heaves of my own I decided to I get one of my dust masks from the garage and sprayed it with cologne. Hey don’t judge… it worked. Then I snapped on the dishwashing gloves.  I thought about getting my safety goggles but they were in the car. I probably should have though because my eyes started to water during the hazmat operation. : )

The Deistette came down the stairs after cleaning up our younger one but I said she should probably just to stay up there with him.  Plus it was pretty damn nasty downstairs and I didn’t want her to puke everywhere herself.

An hour later, I had things restored to they way they were before Barfpocalypse. The boys would never know how gross it was and all was restored to the way they see the house when they bounce down the stairs every morning for breakfast. I earned every bit of my title of Best Second Daddy Ever after cleaning that nastiness up.

And to that good friends I say my time spent as a member of a college fraternity were not ill spent days.

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