It’s been bit of a natural disaster around here the past few days. We were hit. We were enveloped by a tsunami also known as norovirus, which swept through our home in a wave of vomit and diarrhea. I’m not sure how it’s possible that of the four members of this family, I’m the one who hasn’t yet succumbed to the virus, considering how I’ve been up to my elbows cleaning up the disease- ridden liquids being expelled from the rest of my family. Bleach. Lots and lots of bleach up in here.
The sickies with appropriate facial expressions.
I won’t know with certainty until tomorrow, but I’m pretty sure I’m safe. As per usual around here, everyone took turns, so we had a barfer every night. I guess it’s nice that it didn’t come all at once, but I’m a wee bit tired from cleaning up puke and tending the ill for 3 nights. Why does my family always puke at night? Last night was Oskar’s turn, poor guy. He’s NEVER sick. I’ve never seen him ill like this. If you haven’t heard a grow man puke, let me tell you, it’s shockingly loud and forceful. I was scared that he was going to rip the toilet from the ground. I’ve never been so impressed with my husband’s strength.
A doctor didn’t diagnose us with norovirus or anything, but as a parent of small children, I’ve learn to identify a few diseases pretty accurately by the amount of laundry I must wash in the aftermath. The amount of laundry that needs cleaning right now is obscene, really, and I’m sort of considering just throwing the blankets and towels I don’t love and treasure in the trash. It would help free up some extra time to steam clean the carpets and couch, because those areas were not left unscathed. But, for the first time in my life, I dealt with this bout of disease with a sense of humor. Usually I’m a nervous wreck. Maybe it’s because no one had a high fever? Maybe God threw me some grace on this one.
I’m sincerely hoping we didn’t infect any of the many members of my family who we saw yesterday, or my cousin’s kids who we have swim lessons with. If we did, I’m gonna have to send myself this scathing letter I wrote to the person responsible for infecting us during our last barf-o-rama, and then pay to clean their carpets.
