Thursday, croup in three of our four kids.
Friday, stomach flu in the fourth.
Saturday, coughing and crankiness all around.
Sunday morning, violent vomiting in one of our children that landed us in the doctor's office.
Sunday afternoon, violent vomiting begins with the second of our four.
Sunday late afternoon, crying and ear tugging and extreme clinginess begins with the baby.
Sunday evening, violent vomiting begins with the third of our four.
Sunday later evening, violent vomiting begins with the patriarch.
Sunday later, later evening, matriarch wonders why it is again that we live 8-hours from the nearest family member?
While I was holding a bowl a few minutes ago for my poor, sweet Elizabeth, I told her how proud I was of her. Not only did she run and make it to the toilet in time when the flu first struck, but she hasn't cried once during this whole ordeal.
In fact, she summoned the energy to congratulate her sister on also making it to the toilet on time and then, she stood up and gave her a high-five while saying, "Way to go, Gwacie! Good job!! You made it!!"
Unfortunately, my girls were unable to get off the couch in time for the next 10 vomiting episodes, but it amazes me that they are all handling this so well.
So while Elizabeth was laying in bed, with her beautiful dark hair across the white pillow, and an angelic face looking up at me with rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes, I told her that when I was a little girl, I would cry every time I threw up. When I told this to her, she softly placed one hand on my cheek and said, "Mom, I was with you. I was always with you. And tonight, if you are sick, I pwomise I'll be there and bunny will be there, and we'll hold a bowl for you."
I never would have imagined such sweetness could exist.
But God willing ... her act of kindness won't be necessary.