On Monday Hannah developed a stomach bug. She had some nasty diapers that morning and was kind of fussy. Dan agreed to take her to school and was going to stop at the drugstore on the way and pick up some special formula for her stomach.
They never made it out the door. Hannah vomited all over Dan. And I suppose I am a terrible wife because there was a small part of me that quietly thought "better Dan than me."
Karma sure is a bitch, isn't it?
Today seemed better. All three kids went to camp and all seemed happy. About 10:30 I got a text from Dan. He wanted me to thank Hannah for giving him whatever it was she had yesterday. The gift that keeps on giving. And because he didn’t feel well, it threw off the entire afternoon schedule, which now had to be revised.
At 4pm I left work, went home, changed my clothes, grabbed bottles, and the diaper bag since I was now taking the twins to Noah’s swim lesson at the park. My beloved friend Jamie (who also doubles as the infant room teacher) selflessly and gracious agreed to meet me at the park and help with the girls. Should have been a piece of cake.
I got to the preschool and went to get the twins first. Abbie was all smiles and happy as a clam (despite having tackled another little boy in her class and making him cry because she wanted his bottle. My dad says this is the Israeli in her). She giggled and was her usual sweet self as I put her in the stroller.
Another teacher mentioned that she couldn’t believe Abbie didn’t get sick too. Ten seconds later she projectile vomited mac n’ cheese. And every knows how much I just LOVE mac n’ cheese!
We cleaned her up as best as possible, got Noah, loaded everyone in the car and sped off to swim class. Which I was late for (again). I pulled into the park and dropped Noah off with Jamie so I could park the car. Just as I was pulling into a spot I heard gurgling from the back. . . it was Abbie. This time she opted to barf all over her brand-spanking-new-overpriced-just-installed-by-the-City-of-Phoenix-Fire-Department car seat. Yeah, there were some four letter words coming out of my mouth.
All I have to say is THANK GOD for Jamie.
The pool was a zoo and she agreed to stay with Noah and bring him back home. I took both girls home in a car that now reeks of regurgitated mac n’ cheese and whatever else Abbie (my human trash compactor of a daughter) shoved in her mouth. Got her inside, cleaned her up, and she was like a ray of sunshine again. Jamie brought Noah home and together we watched Abbie lunge for Noah’s dinner and fight with Hannah over a bottle of formula.
I think she’ll live. And my car now smells like a spring meadow thanks to the half-bottle of Lysol I doused on every surface. I will kill this goddamn stomach bug if it’s the last thing I do.''
What I would do for a margarita right now. I don’t think there is enough alcohol in the State of Arizona right now to make this week better.
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