Saturday With My Boys

It all started out pretty well. We stayed in bed a lot later than usual. I didn't get up until six, and Chester didn't get up until six-thirty. While I was cooking breakfast, Chester woke up the boy. I should have known something was wrong since he slept in so late.

Around seven-thirty, I plopped Ben down in his high chair for breakfast. Chester was in the shower; he had to be at work by eight for some overtime project with his boss. As I started to put on Ben's bib, he coughed... and then gagged... and then vomited. It kept coming and coming. I think it was even lunch from yesterday. It was awful and smelly and chunky. Nasty. I went into the bathroom and told Chester to help.

After the deluge was over, Ben needed a bath. He was pretty listless, but still in a generally good mood. I gave him a bottle of milk after his bath. Ten minutes later, it was all over our floors and a stack of blankets on the floor. Ick. Ick. Ick.

When Chester got back from work at noon, and after our three hour nap, he also came down with a stomach bug.

This has been a really long day. I even had to shovel our sidewalk. And since we have a winter storm warning, I have a feeling I'll be out there at least another two times this weekend.

Really, I'm not that pissy of a person. It's just been a few bad days. My life is still really good. I have a lovely marriage, an adorable son, a warm house. We're getting a good chunk of money back from the IRS, so we'll even be able to pay off some of our bills. Life is good. Great. I just wish it didn't have to contain chunky, stinky vomit.