Vomitorium, Redux

It turns out both P and I came home from Strasbourg with one more souvenir: a gastrointestinal virus. Just after we got home, I got very sick and assumed it was from the ride home. Though I am prone to motion sickness, I must admit even I was surprised at this level of reaction after only a smooth TGV and subway ride and thought, "How on Earth do I still love traveling?!" But I realized it was a bug deep into the night when I was repeatedly hugging the toilet -- not just euphamistically, but physically, because the cold porcelain felt so good. And the joys of parenting: P came down with it in the middle of the night, and I had to take care of her, get up with her, and clean up after her all night long.

Some sharp readers will be remembering that I am not a single parent and wondering why Anthony didn't help P. Around 2am when she came into our room sick, he switched places with her. He went to sleep in her top bunk, saying he hadn't had a lot of sleep with coughing/kicking kids in the hotel room for the past few nights (wait -- wasn't I in the same hotel room/bed?). If you are thinking that is a seriously lame excuse, and that he should have let me rest, and that this posting will publicly vilify him....well, let's just leave it at that.

Except to add that the next day when I finally felt like I might be able to hold some food down, he made himself and G some lunch and left me to make my own oatmeal.

I should add that this is the first sick day I've had since I was pregnant with P six and a half years ago. At that time, I was on bedrest, and my mother and nephew Sam were both staying with us to help out with G, then a toddler. Because our flat only had one bathroom at the time, and we were all sick for days, we issued everybody their own personal pail. Indelibly etched in my mind is the image of my mother shuffling down the hall holding her little bucket. This video, from TV cartoon Family Guy, says it all.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4eYSpIz2FjU

After 24 hours of our house being just like a Roman vomitorium -- but without the fun of first getting drunk -- we are all back to normal. And perhaps, after the notoriety gained from this posting, I can count on Anthony to bring his nursing skills to the next level (to any level, that is) when I next get sick six and half years from now.