Vomit, that is.
It's funny. It really is.
Last week, the thing that prompted me to write about my vomit-phobia was this: My son had a playdate with one of his best pals from school, and then came home from school the next day saying that his friend hadn't been at school because he was sick. I knew - I KNEW - what he was sick with before I even asked. But I had to ask. I emailed his mom to ask if her son was okay and if I should be watching out for anything with Super Boy, and she confirmed my worst fear: Her son had been throwing up all night.
For the next 48-72 hours (the general incubation period of stomach viruses), I was in my usual "puke patrol" mode: Reminding Super Boy to wash his hands all day long, reminding him not to drink out of my glass, setting him up with a bucket beside his bed each night, and generally stressing myself out waiting to hear the sounds of him gagging and retching.
Surprisingly, all of my patrolling was for naught: Super Boy never got sick!
It was nothing short of a miracle!
I mean, these are FIVE YEAR OLD BOYS we're talking about. Boys who pick their noses and eat their boogers without a second thought and then grab a toy or two and keep on playing. Boys who feel compelled to show each other their wiggly teeth, with their icky-germy hands in their mouths.
And my son had been around his friend ALL DAY: the entire school day PLUS the playdate after school. How could he NOT end up sick?!?
So I spent my weekend breathing a loooonnnnnnngggg sigh of relief that we had seemingly dodged the stomach bug sweeping through our area, yet again (because you'll remember that my brother-in-law had it at Christmas, when we were all at my parents' house).
Ahhhhh, yes. And then.
Super Man wakes up this morning and tells me he's staying home from work because he's not feeling well.
I'd heard him cough a few times during the night, so my first thought was actually that he was coming down with a cold or maybe the respiratory flu (he never gets flu shots, but Super Boy and I always do).
Then I come downstairs to get breakfast for Super Boy and do a load of laundry. And I hear Super Man in the bathroom.
I hear him throwing up.
You've GOT to be kidding me. Seriously?
He's SUPER MAN, for Pete's sake! He's an ADULT! Where the hell would HE pick this up???
Who the hell knows?!?!?
I tell him constantly that he doesn't wash his hands often enough. I'm guessing that right there was the problem.
So, essentially, all this time I've been focusing all of my anti-stomach-bug thoughts and efforts on Super Boy while Super Man was sneaking it in the backdoor of my house, behind my back.
And the worst part?
I spent my evening snuggled up with Super Man last night, giving him hugs and kisses, all evening long. I missed my husband after his long day at work, and I wanted to be near him.
So guess who's probably going to be sicker than a dog at this time tomorrow?
It's so not fair, not right, not good.
If there is any upside to this - ANY upside at all - it's that Super Man has a business trip next week, so I'll be single-parenting. If we're all going to be felled by this insidious, vile stomach bug, then I guess it's better that it happens THIS week rather than next, especially since my Super Mom will also be out of town for most of next week and wouldn't be able to come help me out/take care of me/take care of Super Boy!
I'm so pissed. I hate winter. I hate all the stupid winter illnesses.
And I really REALLY hate the stomach viruses.
Wish me luck, readers. Please pray that I'll dodge this through my super hand-washing & super disinfecting. And, if that's simply not possible, then please pray that this will be quick and not-too-bad, and that Super Boy won't get it until after me, if at all. PRAY.