Family sickness with kids is sort of like having someone push “pause” on your life, while everything else goes on and piles up around you and you can’t do anything about it. While I was only sick myself for less than 24 hours, every time I turned around for six days I was stripping a bed and re-making it, cleaning up vomit, putting a toddler on the toilet (okay, that happens every day, but when the flu hits the lower intestine, the visits to the toilet get a little more . . . intense . . .) keeping the electrolytes up in whatever member of my family was losing fluid from whichever end of the intestine was affected at the moment, and washing clothes.
If you don’t know how much I hate laundry, you must be new around here. As much as I hate this intestinal plague we’ve been experiencing, I hate laundry more and I have been doing laundry all week because we’ve been experiencing the intestinal plague .
On Tuesday, the mackerdoodle went through four sets of clothes while she was throwing up, as well as managing to throw up in her bed AND mine. On Wednesday evening I managed to go through three sets of clothes in an hour partly because of the cheesedoodle’s cheerful projectile puking and I don’t want to talk about the other experience. Thursday I had to strip both beds again. I’d rather not talk about it. You’re getting the picture. In four days my daughter alone went through ten pairs of pajamas, five pairs of pants and I lost count of the panties. It was all I could do to get clothes out of the dryer, just to put the next load in. At some point the pile quit growing and just went into recycle – remove the sick clothes or towel or sheets, place in washing machine and replace with whatever could be salvaged from “the pile”.
At the end of gastroenteritis homecoming week ’09, my living room looked like this:
Oh the humanity.
I haven’t got it all folded yet, just like I haven’t managed to get the rest of the house back into order, but it’s on the way. Jawan asked me today if I feel normal yet. Whittling the pile down to two baskets went a long way to helping me get there. Our bodies may be healed, but my house has yet to recover.
I bet someone will want to look at the house on Tuesday.