Last week my mom, Miriam, and I went to see Beauty and the Beast at the local junior high school. There were a couple of girls from my mom's ward in it and a couple of girls from my ward in it and it was certainly fun to see them perform, if nothing else. They had great costumes, too, and the kids really did a fabulous job...but it was a junior high performance, so just keep that in mind.
We left Rachel at home (since she was throwing up) and Miriam was thrilled beyond belief that this time she was the one going to the play while Rachel was the one staying home. That experience we had at the Valley Center Playhouse just about broke her little heart—she came to me the next morning and sniffed, "No can noisy babies watch a show. Meme's not a baby but Meme not can stay at play." It was so sad.
So you can imagine she could not stop talking about how Miriam was getting to go to a play with Naanii and Mommy while Rachel was at home, sick in bed. She loved it.
This week Andrew and I have left the kids home two nights in a row while we've been off at church functions. We had an Elder's Quorum dinner last night, which was fun, and then this evening was the adult session of stake conference. Grandma and Grandpa let the girls stay up both nights to watch a show and have a popcorn party before putting them to bed for us (we're/they're so spoiled).
Tonight, though, Miriam wasn't in bed when we came home. She was downstairs watching football with Grandpa. I went in the bedroom to put some stuff away before going to get her but before I could, Grandma came to get me.
"I have a surprise to show you!" she said, leading us into the girls' room.
She shined a flashlight on Miriam's bed, illuminating what the smell had already told me—Miriam's bed was covered in vomit.
Blue vomit, to be accurate.
And it smelled horribly.
We had had nachos for lunch. Karen had found these BYU tortilla chips at the store—they're blue and white. We figured they were blue corn and white corn chips mixed in the same bag. It wasn't until we started eating them (and noticed each other's blue-tinged lips) that we realized that what we thought were blue corn chips were actually white corn chips dyed a sickening shade of navy blue. I don't know how much dye they had to use to get the chips that colour but it must have been a lot because everything in Miriam's bed was blue.
I think she would have gotten sick even if we hadn't eaten blue chips for lunch though. She was fussy all day...and it's really her turn, isn't it? Rachel's had the stomach flu three separate occasions this month; it's only fair that Miriam would get it now.
Poor Miriam didn't know what hit her. She wandered out of her bedroom, with her hands dripping in goo.
"What's wrong?" asked Grandma.
"I has a booger," she told Grandma, who had already come to examine her hands.
"Oh! That's not a booger!" Grandma said. "You threw up!"
All night long Miriam's been repeating the story—through her bath, through putting on new pyjamas, through cuddles, through everything.
"I coughed and had a booger. I threw up! Mom! I threw up!"
Having her tell me about it fifty times before I put her back to bed is exactly what I needed to give me a queasy stomach.
Secretly I had wished we would go a full week without having to deal with throw-up but I guess it's a good thing I never voiced that wish or I'd be eating my words right now. And, chances are, if I had to eat my words I'd probably end up vomiting them up later. I have a feeling this stomach bug is just starting the rounds in this household.
(sarcasm) I can hardly wait for my turn (/sarcasm).
We left Rachel at home (since she was throwing up) and Miriam was thrilled beyond belief that this time she was the one going to the play while Rachel was the one staying home. That experience we had at the Valley Center Playhouse just about broke her little heart—she came to me the next morning and sniffed, "No can noisy babies watch a show. Meme's not a baby but Meme not can stay at play." It was so sad.
So you can imagine she could not stop talking about how Miriam was getting to go to a play with Naanii and Mommy while Rachel was at home, sick in bed. She loved it.
This week Andrew and I have left the kids home two nights in a row while we've been off at church functions. We had an Elder's Quorum dinner last night, which was fun, and then this evening was the adult session of stake conference. Grandma and Grandpa let the girls stay up both nights to watch a show and have a popcorn party before putting them to bed for us (we're/they're so spoiled).
Tonight, though, Miriam wasn't in bed when we came home. She was downstairs watching football with Grandpa. I went in the bedroom to put some stuff away before going to get her but before I could, Grandma came to get me.
"I have a surprise to show you!" she said, leading us into the girls' room.
She shined a flashlight on Miriam's bed, illuminating what the smell had already told me—Miriam's bed was covered in vomit.
Blue vomit, to be accurate.
And it smelled horribly.
We had had nachos for lunch. Karen had found these BYU tortilla chips at the store—they're blue and white. We figured they were blue corn and white corn chips mixed in the same bag. It wasn't until we started eating them (and noticed each other's blue-tinged lips) that we realized that what we thought were blue corn chips were actually white corn chips dyed a sickening shade of navy blue. I don't know how much dye they had to use to get the chips that colour but it must have been a lot because everything in Miriam's bed was blue.
I think she would have gotten sick even if we hadn't eaten blue chips for lunch though. She was fussy all day...and it's really her turn, isn't it? Rachel's had the stomach flu three separate occasions this month; it's only fair that Miriam would get it now.
Poor Miriam didn't know what hit her. She wandered out of her bedroom, with her hands dripping in goo.
"What's wrong?" asked Grandma.
"I has a booger," she told Grandma, who had already come to examine her hands.
"Oh! That's not a booger!" Grandma said. "You threw up!"
All night long Miriam's been repeating the story—through her bath, through putting on new pyjamas, through cuddles, through everything.
"I coughed and had a booger. I threw up! Mom! I threw up!"
Having her tell me about it fifty times before I put her back to bed is exactly what I needed to give me a queasy stomach.
Secretly I had wished we would go a full week without having to deal with throw-up but I guess it's a good thing I never voiced that wish or I'd be eating my words right now. And, chances are, if I had to eat my words I'd probably end up vomiting them up later. I have a feeling this stomach bug is just starting the rounds in this household.
(sarcasm) I can hardly wait for my turn (/sarcasm).
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