Monday, September 17, 2012

Just sprinkle some salmonella on it

Apparently the universe didn't think my life was interesting enough with 2 10-year-olds, so it decided to take things up a notch this past weekend.

Nana left the building on Saturday morning so we were ALL up at 5AM to say goodbye. Of course when you're 10, you wouldn't even consider going back to sleep after that. So the kids were up.

I, on the other hand, returned from dropping my Mom at the airport and promptly crashed. The kids? Up. And 'up' means sneaking around the house looking for ways to get into trouble.

Over the summer, they kids learned how to cook their own eggs in a pan and for some reason, 'sunny side up' became a favorite, despite pleas from Richard to cook it til it was DEAD. Some time that Saturday morning, I could smell eggs-a-cookin' and after I made sure the house wasn't actually on fire, I left the kids to it. All was well.

A few hours later, we were at the soccer field for the first game of the drama. They won.

Cut to early Saturday evening and both kids started to feel "icky".

Go lie down!

Everything seemed to be fine, but Clifford wasn't hungry at dinner time when I was whipping up tacos, so he abstained. Not really like him. Alexander ate one and everything was fine....

Later on that night when both kids were asleep, I was just about to do the same when I heard Clifford holler about his stomach.

Me: What's going on?
Clifford: I feel like I'm gonna throw uuuupppp.
Me: Well, maybe you should get down from your loft....

Right in his bed. That was nice.

So I drag him out of bed and into the bathroom and headed to the kitchen to get something to clean all this up. No sooner am I down there do I hear one of the kids holler "HE'S THROWING UPPPPPP!"

My first response, thinking this is Alexander I'm hearing is "I KNOWWWWW".

Then I hear Clifford say "NO...ALEXANDER IS!!"

Oh crap.

I ran upstairs to see Alexander hovering over the toilet, Clifford had moved on to the bathroom trash can, and I managed to run through the mess Alexander made on the top two carpeted stairs in my bare feet.


Projectile vomit and crying kids everywhere.

At one point I even screamed "please stop throwing up!!!!!" Of course they looked at me like I was insane, and I was waiting for their heads to start spinning around like that creepy kid from The Exorcist.

At that point I texted Richard, who was out..."Kids are throwing up everywherrrrrrre!"

"It was the was the eggs!!"

Ugh, the eggs.

Richard came home and I promptly put him on dry heave duty, which lasted until roughly 2:30AM. I went to bed, but not before I sanitized my surroundings, and my feet.

The next morning it was as if nothing happened. But of course they'll "never eat another egg ever ever again".

Sure...until next weekend.

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