Squeak’s Squeals

It’s been a long, LONG week in the world of the Squeak.

It started on Wednesday when the girls’ daycare called to tell me JB was projectile vomiting all over the facility and I needed to come get her. They graciously gave her a bucket for the drive home and we arrived at the house without incident.

Upon entering the house, however, JB walked into the living room, held the bucket way out in front of her and puked on the floor. “It’s okay. It’s no problem,” I reassured her. “These things happen. I’ll just have to scrub the floor is all.”

The problem with this philosophy is that I am a sympathetic puker. If I see it, hear it or smell it, I’m gonna do it. So there I was, on hands and knees on the living room floor - scrubbing with one bucket and vomiting into another.

Not much work was accomplished on Wednesday for obvious reasons… the kids were whiny and clingy, I was cranky and my throat was sore from upchucking. So Wednesday was a bust.

By Thursday, all was well. The kids went off to daycare, I went off to work. And I had been given permission to work from home Friday as a weird sort of perk for getting things accomplished in the office.

As luck would have it, however, at just after 2am Friday morning, my bedroom door crept open and there stood Roo, tears streaking her face, “Mommy, I puked….”

Shit. I pulled myself out of bed and went to assess the damages.

Pile #1: The hallway. ALL over the hallway.

Pile #2: Roo’s bedroom floor.

Pile #3: Roo’s bed - the sheets, the pillow, the jammies, the Webkinz…. coated in an orange, acidic slime.

I went to grab the buckets and spent the next two and a half hours scrubbing and puking…. and scrubbing and puking…. and scrubbing and……… well, you get the idea.

So Friday was also a bust. No work was accomplished (except for scrubbing floors - repeatedly). Not a problem, right? I can make up the time on Saturday while the kids are with their Doofhead, right? WRONG!

By noon on Saturday, I had a temp of 102(F) and was convinced my spleen was the only possible organ which had not yet shot itself out of my nose. I heaved and puked and heaved and puked… and when there was nothing left to puke, I continued to heave - for HOURS I continued the heaving - at one point, I heaved hard enough to re-injure my jaw (for those of you who read the Brawler post)… I felt it pop again and it sent a shooting pain into my right ear. And I kept heaving. Tears were streaming down my face as I sat in my bathroom all alone, convinced I had reached the end of my days… that I would be living out the last fleeting moments of my life cold, alone, heaving and perched on the porcelain throne.

The good news: I feel infinitely better this morning. The bad news: all the heaving caused the blood vessels to burst all around my right eye (that there picture to the right…. that is really, truly my eyeball, taken this morning… granted, it’s not the best picture as it was taken with my cell phone, but it’s enough to get the point across).

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This entry was posted on Sunday, August 17th, 2008 at 6:37 am and is filed under Auto Fail Life, Family Humor, Kid Crud, Tumors. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.