Pride cometh before a fall ...

Get a load of this quote from an email I sent to my friend:

We’re down with the Tuesday-after-the-Sunday-nursery barfs. Buzz started throwing up Tuesday morning, and Tobi-Wan chimed in tonight (Wednesday). I’m just waiting for the other 4 (5 if you count The Grand Lunar. 6 if you count me, but I don't, 'cause I don't get sick.) shoes to drop. GL went to bed early.

... I’m up late to fold laundry and make sure I’m ready with the towels and rags and carpet cleaner and new jammies and blankets and all the rest that comes with potential-to-barf children. I’m proud of myself, I packed a big bowl with rags and cleaners and placed it on a big towel so I’ve got a kit by the stairs, should someone need it. My guess is that Tobi-Wan will be throwing up in the night ~ hopefully he will wake and grab his bowl, but I’m not counting on it.

Ahhh, I was so proud of the bowl and cleaners.

Then I heard Gark sputter. I was already on my way up the stairs when he came down, to tell me he felt sick, I guess. Threw up ALL over the stairs and wall.

"Get! to! the! bathroom!" I hissed. Lovingly. Urgently.

He turned and ran back up the stairs to the bathroom doorway (which is, coincidentally, right next to his bedroom.) And threw up all over the bathroom.

"Get! to! the! toilet!" I hissed again, helpfully. Poor boy is standing with his toes in the hallway, trying to projectile vomit past the floor mess that he won't step in, to the toilet.

I looked down at my woefully inadequate little packed tote. Started trying to clean up the carpeted stairs while he finished his business.

What in the world was I thinking, suggesting we order **pizza** for dinner when I knew we had a bug in the house with the potential for spreading? Man, there's nothing worse than cleaning up regurgitated sausage pizza, I tell you. I'm proud of myself for not barfing all over the steps, myself!

So I get the carped wiped and scrubbed and re-saturate it with carpet cleaner for good measure, and start on the bathroom. I needed several more rag runs. And discovered that regurgitated sausage pizza clogs the puny bathroom sink drain. So I had to fetch the drain cleaner, too. I wiped and scrubbed and bleached and lysoled everything except the post-drainO sink when I heard Little D start to barf.

Little D's barfing woke Buzz, who - while no longer sick - still is feeling tired and crabby. He was very not happy that I was puttering around the room not snuggling or feeding him. So I got LittleD's bedding and jammies changed and wiped up and gave him the bowl and instructions. He's 3.5, here's hoping he listened. And then nursed Buzz for a bit. I had to stop when I heard Gark barfing again.

Cleaned up the bathroom and bowl for Gark, and heard Little D calling - he wants it to be morning. He hates sleep, he says. He wants some cereal. And juice. And his tummy's hurts. That's how he says it. "My tummy's hurts." So I explained that it wasn't morning, that he was sick, and needed his rest. And his bowl. While Buzz cried - again - because I was back in the room.

I think that went back and forth a few times, but in between I folded laundry in 5 minute spurts, and re-piled rages and cleaners and bowls.

I was just sitting down to start blogging this - because it's funny, right? - when Iliacat came down to inform me that Eminoodle had barfed.

In her bed. All over her blanket, sheets, pillow, mattress pad, dust ruffle, bedside, wall, under the mattress somehow, and all over the floor. In the corner behind the bed. Soooo I removed all the bedding, got her into the bathroom, instructed her to change jammies, piled up dirty laundry, washed the mattress, bed, wall, and floor, remade the bed, called for her to get out of Gark's way so he could barf in the toilet, and tucked her back in bed.

I just took her bedding down to find that the lint sock had filled up too far and sprayed water all over the part of the basement that I *didn't* mop earlier. What is it with me and lint socks?

So I replaced the lint sock and set the washer to spin again.

And hurried here to blog.

Because, really, I don't know if it can get any funnier.

There's only 3 of us left untouched. Well, untouched if you don't count getting barfed on. That would be me, the barfed-on one. I'm guessing Iliacat will come up barfing yet tonight.

The Grand Lunar? I don't know. Here's hoping he's at least able to make it to the toilet.

Do you think I should give the bathroom near our bedroom a preemptive cleaning, so he has a fresh, sparkling place to vomit, should he need it?

**Bonus Tip**
If your children are barfing on bedding faster than you can do laundry, and you are scrambling, between barfs, to keep up? It helps to turn the dryer ON.