It had been a while, so it was bound to happen again at some point or another. I can still honestly say that I was not ready for it. However, that didn’t matter one bit because as soon as it landed, we were off on the belly bug train in this house.
Guys, I must have forgotten how awful it is! Or maybe it really is that much worse this year? Or am I just getting softer with age? Whatever it is, this round was terrible.
In this house, with all the bonus babies and neighborhood kiddos, we share a LOT of things – toys, food, clothes – and, unfortunately, sicknesses. So, when one kid started throwing up Saturday evening, followed by another later that night, I did my best to sanitize and wash everything in the house, but it was to no avail.
A little after lunchtime on Monday, the school called, and Reagan was the next victim. Listen, she was fine that morning so I couldn’t NOT send her to school. I was truly hoping I had disinfected enough that maybe we would be in the clear, but I knew as soon as I saw the call come in that it was time for round two.
She was a trooper though – saying please for a tissue after each puke and thanking me for getting her a cold wash cloth – all the manners while feeling like crap. It totally just made me feel worse for her! But she handled it like it was just another day.
I, on the other hand, was not so willing to give in to it. Ugh. Is there actually anything worse than the belly bug? I tried to speak positively to myself and breathe it off for hours that evening but eventually, I succumbed to it. Then, it was me thanking Reagan for the tissues.
Because of her anxiety about puking (seriously, it is a thing), Maylie opted to go to her dad’s at the first sight of it over the weekend, so I had hoped she at least would steer clear. It worked out that she had practice that night and could stay at her dad’s to hopefully miss out on it again.
But she wasn’t so lucky. At 2 a.m. my phone rang and it was her — half shaken up and half proud of herself — saying that she actually threw up and was still OK. Paul brought her home to join in the madness of the sickness with Reagan and me.
That night and most of the next day were kind of a blur. Between our bouts of buckets and bathroom trips, we started movies that we slept through and sipped on sports drinks trying to become halfway human again. It was exhausting and yet probably the most sleep I have gotten in 24 hours in – well, ever?
That next evening, we were all fighting headaches – probably a mix of dehydration and the pressure of puking. Regardless, we were still not feeling the best. And while it was probably under some of the worst circumstances ever, there were no two people in the world that I would rather have battled the belly bug with than those two.
As I trying to get Reagan to sleep for the night, she asked for some cuddles – which of course I took her up on. As we talked and then prayed, I thank God for the extra time with them – even if we were sick the entire time. Because time just feels like it is flying by so quickly.
After Reagan drifted off to sleep, I asked Maylie if she needed anything. Her needs were all met except for a familiar thing: to cuddle.
And as I laid there holding my almost-ten-year-old, I reminded her that she totally had to shower the next day — and so did I – but also, that I would always, always make time for cuddles with her! When she is 25 years old, she better call me and tell me she is coming home to cuddle!
And I thought for a second just how unfair it is that when she is 25 years old and too busy for cuddles, I will have all the time in the world to cuddle – no kid’s puke to clean up, or bathrooms to sanitize or loads and loads of laundry to do.
I stayed a little longer holding my girl that night and, before I got up, I told her that I was serious about coming home to cuddle at age 25. To which she replied, “not every night, though, Mom. Maybe once a month – twice a month!”
And while I snuggled her little post-puke body in just a little closer, I reminded her that I would always take whatever cuddles – any sickness or age – that I could get.
Sarah (Pitson) Shrader was born and raised in Lima. She is a Lima Central Catholic and Tiffin University graduate. Sarah is a full-time working mama who enjoys writing about her somewhat crazy, always adventurous life as a mother. She lives in Bath Township with her daughters and writing inspirations, Maylie and Reagan.
