My poor little bunny has been sick. I won't disgust you with the details here, since if you've talked to me at any point in the last three days it's likely you've heard it already. P and I were hoping that the vomiting and other, ahem, symptoms were caused by the cold she's had the last couple of weeks.
Not so much.
Turns out she has a rotavirus. This meant a lot of projectile vomiting and other intestinal "upset"for our family this weekend. Yuck. I was extremely worried (read: frantically panicked) that it would spread to the rest of the family, particularly T, and that I would spend Christmas cleaning poop and vomit off of every horizontal surface in the house. We were beyond relieved to find out that once you've had it you don't usually get it again and T had it once a year ago.
We shipped T off to my parents' house Saturday night. A was so sick that it was best for everyone if P and I could just focus on her, keeping her and the laundry clean, and putting out fires as they erupted. We spent the afternoon at After-Hours Clinic. Our charming daughter did very well, including the part of the exam when she vomited all over me. I'm pretty unflappable in the face of most things. That very morning when she threw up all over me and the couch was pretty nice. Even at the clinic, P and I had the forethought to pack an extra outfit (AND and extra onsie) for our darling daughter. However, we had failed to pack an extra shirt for me. Or pants. Or socks. My daughter is nothing if not thorough.
I wiped myself up with damp rags and threw my shirt into the Biohazard bag with A's clothes. I was able to wear my coat, at least! There was nothing to do about the smell, though, and if you were at Kowalski's grocery store last Saturday afternoon I would really, really like to apologize about that smell, for it was fearsome. It's just that we were totally out of laundry detergent and needed to have some in a bad way. I'm sure you understand. Thanks so much.
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