So it went like this: Natalie said that her stomach hurt on Saturday. This was followed by her puking. I cannot deal with puke. This is why I trained her at a young age to puke in the toilet because Mommy does not like to clean vomit. If Mommy cleans vomit, Mommy also vomits.
She was sick for 24 hours.
Then at 3 AM on Tuesday I could hear someone getting sick in the toilet. I thought, "Oh Natalie, are you sick again?" and went out.
It was Tommy.
He was like, "Help me! I can't stop!"
He's dramatic like I am when I'm throwing up. I tend to cry when I have to do it, something that my husband Tom doesn't understand. He's like, "Just get it over with already!" and I'm like, "It's so awful! HELP me!"
Tommy was sick for 24 hours.
I was scared, guys. I felt like a character in that Final Destination movie. Only instead of Death coming for me, it was The Pukes. And I did not want The Pukes anywhere near me. So I turned into one of those clean freaks and wiped down everything. I washed my hands constantly. I ate an orange for Vitamin C. I willed off the sickness in my head. "You will NOT get sick," was my mantra that I said over and over.
Well, yesterday Tom and I went out for a lunch date at our favorite Mexican place. I love it there. I go to town on the complimentary tortillas and chips. Only when the waitress set everything down, my stomach did a very uncomfortable flop.
No. Please no.
I defiantly picked up a chip and stuck it in my mouth. You will NOT get me, The Pukes.
My stomach flopped again which was basically a mean reply. "Yes. We will."
"What's wrong?" Tom asked. He noticed me holding the chip with a disgusted expression across my face.
"I think," I said, setting my chip down. "That I'm getting what the kids had."
Tom made a face. He rarely gets sick. Lucky him.
I felt bad when my entree came and I could only take a bite. I took it to go. Then when I got home I really felt like I was going to get sick but I refused. What I do is find a comfortable position and I basically don't move until the sick feeling goes away. So I was on the couch rubbing my stomach over and over again going, "Don't get sick. I'll cry. Don't get sick, I'll cry." I almost did a few times but I would not let it.
"You know," Tom spoke up, after seeing me in the same position for over three hours. "If you just get sick, you'll feel better."
"NO!" I snapped. "I will not!"
"Go rest in bed at least. You're scaring the children."
Both kids were observing me in silence. I felt like a zoo animal.
"I can't move! If I move, I get sick," I reminded him.
I'm glad I have a supportive husband. He made dinner and took care of everything. I was eventually able to move after taking some Motrin. My stomach felt gross on and off during the night and today? Well, today it feels much better. I just have a headache, which I can deal with.
I'm hoping that I'm done with being sick because honestly, I don't have time for it.
Let's just hope Tom doesn't come down with anything. Then he'll be like, "THIS is how you do it," and will boldly go upchuck into the toilet like it's nothing.
No Pukes for me.
(Please tell me others are afraid of puking out there..)