Things I Learned from the Stomach Flu

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My family has spent the last week passing around a nasty case of stomach flu.

Sick and napping.

Sick and napping.

This is our second round of stomach flu this year...so that flu shot we dutifully marched to the Doctor to get?

MONEY WELL SPENT.

There was one day last week when my husband washed every towel in our house twice.  In my shaking, flu-addled-state wondered, out loud, if it would just be easier to replace the carpet in our house, rather than to continue to spot-clean.

Yeah. It was bad.

But we learned a few things around here...

Parents rise to the occasion. 

My wonderful husband is a sympathetic puker. I didn’t believe him until we had kids and started dealing with the bodily fluids of our offspring. I watched him turn green one night when my daughters wailing brought us to her room, to discover her covered in vomit. I decided that I’d rather handle clean up than handle double the mess.

I became ill in the middle of the night so I stayed in bed all day. It wasn’t until the afternoon that I learned that my daughter had spent the day downstairs sharing my fate.

My puke-averse husband rallied!

My view while my husband held down the puke-covered fort.

My view while my husband held down the puke-covered fort.

Everyone is afraid of the last thing they puked. 

I’m not sure my poor girl will ever go near a strawberry popsicle again. Even though she’s on the mend, she is still firmly anti-popsicle.

My last meal before falling ill? A kale and pineapple smoothie. It will be a cold day in hell before I pour that concoction into a glass ever again.

My last meal. BLEH.

My last meal. BLEH.

Get an extra mattress cover. 

You know why.

Give the kid a trash can. 

Most parents are fond of the “puke bowl”, but a trash can tends to be deeper and therefore better at containing the mess. Plus you won’t be haunted by how that bowl was last used next time you want to whip up pancakes.

Laying really still doesn’t prevent vomiting. 

We tried.

At least we were together.

At least we were together.

No matter how cute it is, don’t let the kid try out your straw.

Discovering a puke-covered toddler, wailing in his crib is the worst. Recalling how earlier that day you shared your drink with the now puke-covered toddler is the second worst.

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