These last few weeks have been chock full of unpacking, unpacking and vomiting. The gastro bug crept up on my family and every other day it has been taking us down one by one...as you know, we're not exactly the average sized family - in fact we're still waiting on the last one of us to get it.
It's not nice being sick, I hate hearing my older boys crying because their tummies hurt and there is nothing that I can do besides direct them to the bucket beside their beds. Then there was the toddler who doesn't yet speak more than "mum", "dad", "car" and "uh-oh" who just vomited all over the shop floor and again in the car.
After him was the Hubby and in all honesty, I think he may have been the worst one out of all of us. A bit like the man flu where he acts like he is dying or something. Ugh.
Then yesterday and today it's been me and the baby. Poor love, she keeps wanting to feed - so I feed her - and up it comes. Then she gives me a big cheesy smile because she has no idea what is going on. I, on the other hand, have had very little sleep between her vomiting and myself vomiting. Hubby stayed back at work, which I don't have a problem with, but he got home at 5am and the toddler woke up at 5, ready to start the day! I still had to do all the Mummy things and cook meals, etc - unlike said Hubby who slept all day when he was sick.
The only one of us left is our big toddler and I am hoping and praying that it misses him completely because he talks. A lot. I am sure he would bellyache all day about how sick he feels and that he needs to spew, then you tell him to go spew in the toilet and he'd want to know why and end up spewing all over your shirt.
Yeah. It's been a wonderful time for all.