Oh how I loathe puke. It gives me anxiety. It makes me want to cry. It hurts. I have a legitimate puke phobia.
At 1:00am, sweet Drew comes to our room and I hear, "Mom, I think I'm going to puke."
Of course, as every good mom does, I roll over and say, "Okay. Go stand in front of the toilet."
So he does. And while he's standing there, all alone, in the middle of the night, I lay in bed and break out into a cold sweat. My anxiety level raises. And I listen.
Not long after, I hear my poor son empty the contents of his stomach into my toilet. And my main thought is..."I'm so glad he's old enough to puke in the toilet, and not all over his bed. His floor."
Poor kid. He was up all night. And he handled himself like a champ. And then all day he rested. And watched movies. And rested. And slowly began eating.
I made a big 'ole pot of my Granny's Chicken Noodle soup. Yum.
When I went to gather the little ones for dinner, I found my Drew like this...
...sound asleep on the floor in front of our bedroom. The poor kid is exhausted.
I had to wake him several times to come eat...and when he did, this is who joined me at the table...
At dinner, we were taking bets on who this bug hits next....really hoping it surpasses all! But until then, we are quarantined to this house!