I was really looking forward to Easter Sunday. Really, really looking forward to it.
But then my son and the rest of my extended family came down with Flu-nami 2013. It hit everyone differently, but it leveled David for six days. It started with vomiting, clinginess and a fever, and ended with diarrhea and grumpiness.
Then, one by one, all the Kriegers got better. (The word “krieger” means “warrior” in German. Which means Kriegers always win.)
We planned Easter 2.0, a family celebration the Sunday after Easter. Same meal assignments, same Easter egg hunt, same Easter socks. The only difference was: no vomiting.
I fell asleep Saturday night thinking about how silly I was to be so disappointed about David getting sick on Easter. I mean, how immature am I? Plus, we have Easter 2.0 to look forward to.
Then at 4:54 a.m. I woke up and threw up. No, that’s wrong. I threw up, then woke up. In that order. There were no other steps in between. I didn’t mention the part where I got out of bed, arranged my hair in a low chignon and then threw up in the toilet because those things didn’t happen.
I also happen to sleep with another adult, and I happened to be facing him at 4:54 a.m.
Tom woke up to a spray of vomit arcing over his face.
I bet, back in 2008 when he took me on a romantic sunset hike up Old Rag and asked me to marry him, he never even considered that I might one day vomit on him in the middle of the night.
Something to think about.
Tom said that he kept thinking about how there was a 50/50 chance that I could have been facing the other way. Toward our hardwood floor and our awesome wool oriental carpet. Our carpet that could have been stained by vomit. It could have been STAINED, while all he had to do was take a shower. So selfish.
It’s funny, too, because when I wrote about David throwing up I was annoyed that he wasn’t old enough to throw up in the toilet like a normal human being. But, in hindsight, he made less of a mess than I did. I created two showers and six loads of laundry. He created one bath, three loads of laundry and one hosed-down high chair. Touche, toddler, you win.
Tom and I decided that I would spend the rest of the night in our guest room and he would sleep on our stripped, cleaned bed in a sleeping bag. While I was in the shower cleaning off, Tom did this to his keyboard, which happens to be right by the guest bed. 50/50 shot.
Tom took David to church, then to Easter 2.0 with the rest of the Kriegers while I stayed in bed.
Having the flu when you’re 31 weeks pregnant is weird, because when you’re pregnant you sort of lose touch with your body’s normal processes. On a normal day I can’t really tell the difference between hunger, constipation, Braxton Hicks or needing to pee because all my insides are all mixed up and out of order. Look at this cross section.
See what I mean? How can you tell if your stomach hurts when there’s a baby bottom where your stomach is supposed to be? Usually I just assume anything I feel is hunger, which is dangerous when you’re sick.
For the past two days I’ve been in bed eating saltines, sort of like David was a week ago.
Tom took Monday off work so I could get some much-needed rest. He and David had a daddy-son day while I stayed inside and watched an entire season of Project Runway on Hulu.
Even though I’m feeling better and haven’t vomited since mid-morning Sunday, the keyboard is still wrapped in plastic, and I’m still sleeping in the guest room. Tom isn’t really rushing to get back to our normal sleeping arrangement.
But who can blame him? Throw up on your husband once, shame on you. Throw up on your husband twice? Shame on you for that, too.