Three days ago, little Maggie May is not feeling great. She keeps spitting up. More than normal. She also refuses to sleep during the day. At night time, we give her dinner, and then a bottle. Once she is down for the night, she keeps fussing. And turning. A spit-up here and a spit-up there. About an our into bedtime, i decide to pick her up and rock her a bit. She's just nodding off to sleep, and then she wakes up, eyes wide open, and vomits her entire bottle up.
All over me.
Needless to say, it was a little bit of a rough night. But by next morning, everything was fine and back to normal.
Then yesterday at work, i start to feel a bit light headed. I've been fighting off a cold that hit the entire family about a month ago, and i was quite proud of myself for not succumbing to the bug. Perhaps it was finally my turn? It was about 1pm, and i hadn't eaten lunch yet. That must be it. So i ate some chicken soup. Perhaps not the best call. By 3:30, my head is pounding, and i call it a day. I come home and lay down. Usually a light nap gets rid of any headache.
Not this one. I wake up an hour later, and it's worse. My stomach is turning, and i know it's one of those "per-throwup" find of feelings. I hang around the toilet for about 30 minutes, but nothing happens. I go back to lay down. Sarah took off somewhere, and Alexander is, thankfully, completely enthralled by Toy Story. At least i have some peace.
About an hour later, my head is pounding, and my brow starts to sweat. I know what this means. Seconds later i am praying to the porcelain god, emptying my stomach of the last 24 hours of food.
I collapse to the floor, feeling like i was just repeatedly punched in the gut by a professional boxer. It's over. My head is still pounding, but the pain in my stomach is gone.
Later that night, Sarah comes home. She feeds Alexander, who seems to also have a stomach ache. "It must be because you're hungry" she says, failing to connect the dots. She gave him one of his favorites: grilled cheese and tomato soup.
A long story short, he wakes up around 9pm moaning and crying. We run into his room to discover his entire bed and the herd of stuff animals are covered in red, with the occasional chunk here and there. And boy, does it smell awful.
This morning everyone wakes up, and life is more or less back to normal. A light breakfast, and we're good to go for the day. I've still got a lingering headache, but aside from that, it's like the whole bloody thing never happened. Looks like the 12hour stomach bug has struck again.
And, fortunately for her, it missed Sarah's number.