There are certain moments in your life as a parent where you are indoctrinated into "parenthood." The first time your newborn pees/poops on you, the first major explosion (of either end) in public, the first temper tantrum...you get the idea. Well, this weekend we got indoctrinated again. The stomach flu hit our house.

Friday night Grayson woke at 10:30. When Leanne went into comfort him and he wouldn't calm down, she brought him to our bed saying, "I don't think he feels well." He fell asleep quickly in our bed, but around 11:30 he started tossing and turning. At 12:15 all hell broke loose. Use your imagination. Carter woke at 7 and seemed fine, but by 7:30 he'd thrown up chocolate milk all over the carpet. We were in full swing. From 7:30am and 3:30pm, we alternated between cuddling lethargic and listless children on the couch, emptying basins, changing their pajamas, changing our clothes, doing countess loads of laundry, trying to convince the kids that Pedialyte, water, and Gatorade are all good fluid options, and watching COUNTLESS episodes of Signing Times. By 4, they were eating ice and keeping it down and by 6, they were eating Saltines. We seemed to be in the clear.

Saturday night Carter woke at 11, 12, 2, and 4. Each time I'd go in and hand him his water cup, he'd take a hearty drink, and lay back down. At 4, I decided that I'd just take him to the guest room with me so I wouldn't have to keep getting up - I just figured he was dehydrated from not drinking much all day and that now that he stomach felt better, he was making up for lost time. But when I cuddled him in bed, I realized he was burning up. He definately had a fever. 102.4. In waking him up to strip him and give him a sponge bath, he cries woke Gray - so we were all huddled together in the bath with a screaming Carter and a confused Grayson. Carter fell asleep after a dose of Tylenol on Leanne's chest and we all slept from 5-7 - because our kids have internal alarm clocks that go off between 6-7 no matter how late they went to bed or how little they slept during the night.

We thought that today would be better - and it was. We didn't have to empty any buckets - but we did have a few very messy diapers. And our children continued to be lethargic and listless. They would get a burst of energy, but it was always short lived and followed by a nap on the couch. By this afternoon we thought that a change of scenery would be good for all of us (honestly I haven't spent so much time in our basement/playroom since we moved into this house as I have in the last 48 hours) but as soon as we changed them out of their pajamas and into jeans/shirts, they protested. LOUDLY. So, back into their jammies they went and we decided not get out (well, I went to get take out since Leanne and I hadn't eaten a proper meal since Thursday night.) The rest of the day, they napped, played, and generally seem to be on the upswing. I thought we were out of the woods.

But now Leanne has it. This is like watching my fate. And it isn't pretty.