Quarantine.

I woke up at 11 o'clock on Saturday morning, amazed that I had slept so late, and moreso, amazed Punky had slept so late. This brief rested amazement quickly transitioned to concern that my child may actually be dead, so I tiptoed down the hall, peeked into her bedroom, and was met with what would become the general household theme for the next three days.

It was sort of like the end of Apocalypse Now -- peeking into her room and seeing my baby girl laying in her crib, looking up at me miserably... and then the puke. Oh my God, the puke. It was everywhere. The quilt. The sheets. The bumpers. The blankie. The carpet. Everywhere. Curdled milk from her late-night bottle. Everywhere. (We won't get into the stench. But trust me on it.)

I didn't have long to survey the damage before I heard her tiny little body beginning to retch, and I realized that hey, human beings need to be TAUGHT to puke in the toilet. So I was quickly in a race against the devil to run with my gagging child and get her over a toilet or similar receptacle. That's when the Exorcist came to mind.

I've never really dealt with baby puke. I can count on one hand the number of times Punky has thrown up. She wasn't a spit-uppy baby. She's never had the flu. So I had no idea what I was dealing with. I was dealing with a lot of puke. After the third outfit change, I just let her roam the house naked (besides a diaper), because in a stroke of sheer awesomeness, the flu also hit while the weather has been in the 80's and we have no central air, which is just great. And ya know, any and all regard for laundry instructions on bedding just goes straight out the window of the priorities list when you're dealing with puke. Cold water only? Nope. Line dry? Fuck it. There's puke everywhere, I just want to throw this in the washer right now and not have to see it ever again.

But of course, being sick, she is also still The Punky, and in sheer Punky form, was needlessly adorable through it. I could almost deal with it better if she'd be a raging, screaming asshole through it all. Instead she was content to sit on whatever lap was open to her, and look adorably pathetic:


Sunday she seemed better. Still a high fever, still miserable, but the puking had been traded for diarrhea, and at least she was able to hold down some Pedialyte. I thought we were clear.

Then Sunday night came around. And right about the same time, around midnight, A. and I were each on our respective computers and almost synchronized, looked at each other and muttered, "Oh God, I don't feel so good..."

And so began the spread of the How2 House Plague, and a long night of two grown adults puking and laying around miserably, looking at each other and wondering if maybe we tried TWICE as hard, together, death would come for us quickly and stealthily.

We really need to move soon, because one bathroom doesn't cut it when there's two adults vomiting and shitting in a horrible, furious storm of bodily fluids being expelled at forcefully high speeds. In a particularly classy move that I'm sure bode well with the neighbors, I wound up vomiting off the front porch because A. was doing the same thing in the lone bathroom.

So today, Punky is running circles around us while A. and I ro-sham-bo for who gets to watch her while the other lays miserably praying for death. I tried to be a good wife and run to McDonald's to get us Powerade (because they have a drive-thru, thus allowing me to stay in my car)... and then I puked in the McDonald's parking lot. I have done far worse in fast-food drive-thrus, thanks to the horrible demon that is Jagermeister, but it seems so much worse when you're coherent enough to understand what you're doing. And it's lunch rush.

In light of everything though, at least it's a rapid weight loss, as the benevolent and awesome Anna has pointed out to me (from her safe location far far away from me, protected by IM and thousands of miles). I'm frankly a little disappointed that this didn't hit before the sorority reunion. Because once I'm able to stand for more than two minutes without vomiting, I'm going to look FABULOUS.