Last weekend we had Brendan's first trip to Ma'am and Papa's house. While we were there, Liam was complaining that his hips hurt. I thought they were just growing pains (he was walking around with ice packs on them to make them feel better).
We got home on Sunday afternoon and on Sunday night, Brendan threw up (not spit up, but projectile vomited) on me. I thought maybe he was just over hot from the long ride home (even though I had the air on high). On Monday, Sean was acting feverish and lethargic. After his nap, he was cuddling with me and I could see his reflection in the doors of the fireplace. And then he threw up...all over me. I put him in the bath and changed my clothes. I laid him down and he threw up again. Not awesome. When Dave got home from work we started to eat dinner (not Sean, he was sitting on the couch) and Liam threw up. Great. Then Sean threw up on Dave.
I had been thrown up on so many times I was down to my high school prom shirt for my "around the house" shirt. I was pleased it still fit, but those lime green fish and "Glidden-Ralston Jr/Sr prom" staring up at me was a reminder of just how much laundry I was going to have to do.
It seems everyone is feeling better today...well, Dave is feeling a little under the weather. I have informed my own immune system that I am not allowed to get sick because, well, I'm mom. Moms can't get sick. Right?