On the way to swimming lessons on Monday, Zach threw up in the car.
I know. GROSS. He was sitting in the front passenger seat and barfed all over himself and the dashboard. I was backing out of our cul-de-sac when it happened. I pulled right back into the driveway and declared swimming lessons canceled.
Zach took a three-hour nap.
Honestly, I thought that was it. Zach has a nervous stomach. It is also very sensitive to junk food and automatically regurgitates when he overeats. I assumed he'd be all better in a few hours, but he wasn't.
Now it's Friday, the fifth consecutive day that Zach has spent in this manner:
He's had terrible headaches, a fever, and virtually no appetite, and he dry heaves a lot (mostly in the middle of the night). He started coughing this morning. Garry went to Albertson's for cough drops at 6:00 a.m.
Kate is also under the weather. I originally attributed her ongoing grumpiness to teething, but it turns out her gums aren't swollen or broken at all. She must have what Zach has. Only instead of blithely reclining on the couch, she screams and refuses to sleep.
Today she was hysterical for almost the entire 2.5 hours that the carpet cleaner guy was here. She didn't want me to hold her. She didn't want to be on the floor, or in her jumper, or the exersaucer, or the stroller, or even the back yard swing. She wouldn't eat or drink or take a bottle. She just cried and cried and cried.
Naturally, so did I.
Yesterday I grabbed a few groceries for the sick ones: popsicles, Gatorade, juice and soda, and applesauce. The rest of what you see here is for me: vanilla ice cream and [lots of] peanut M&Ms.
At this point, emotional eating is my only strategy.