I roll over,
"I can't understand you buddy. Did you say you have a sore throat?"
Then the 3 dreaded words that make the staunchest of mothers shudder spill from his lips, this time very clearly:
"I THREW UP."
Ok, now I'm awake. In fact, instantaneously WIDE awake. I spring into "Mom-Mode" (you totally know what I mean) and instruct Eldest to climb down the ladder. I toss his comforter, blankie (unscathed, thankfully), pillows and the heap of tissues he had tried to sop up the mess with, onto the floor, careful not to disturb Middle as I delicately step upon his bed to reach the top bunk. Until all that's left is the fitted sheet. With 2 different circles of spewage.
By this time, as Eldest is crying in the hall bathroom, Hubby stumbles in to see what's going on. He takes charge of Eldest, putting a clean shirt on him and watching him brush his teeth. They both settle into our bed.
Meanwhile, I'm left with the detritus. I manage to strip the bed down to the mattress and am careful to keep the fitted sheet and mattress cover wound tightly in a ball so as not to let the slowly permeating stench of vomit escape any more than it already has.
I shove the mound into the washer. But something catches my eye.
Houston: We have chunkage.
What to do? Besides curse, that is.
I gingerly remove the sheet from the washer, not daring to breathe in the wretched fumes, and take it downstairs to the kitchen sink so I can rinse it in the sink.
Oh. My. God.
Chicken. Eldest had eaten McD's Chicken Selects for dinner. (No, nothing as simple as McNuggets. It had to be Chicken Selects.) There they were in all their glory. In two separate spots, mind you.
Want to know how bad it was? (Well, you're still reading, so you have no choice...) I had to use the garbage disposal. THAT BAD.
And? For the one instant I lost my focus on NOT breathing through my nose? I gagged and feared that I would be tossing my
So I carried the sopping, but chunk-free, mess back upstairs and started the laundry. And then?
Got to sleep on the couch for the rest of the night, as Eldest and Hubby were fully ensconced under the warm blankets, fast asleep.
I don't think (fingers crossed here) that Eldest actually has a stomach bug. I think it was perhaps a bit of food poisoning. He had eaten well before 6pm and when he got sick, it was 3am. And man, that stuff wasn't a bit digested.
Everyone else here in the Trenches (again, fingers crossed) feels fine. Famous last words, right?
Anyway, Eldest is laying low today, sipping on ginger ale and he has already vowed to never eat Chicken Selects again. Amen to that.