I swear my life has been like scenes out of a horror film this week.
We have been woken in the middle of the night by zombie like creatures stumbling into our bedroom, moaning and mumbling incoherently. They beckon us to follow and like all terrified nitwits in those movies, we go with them, into the dark. They lead us through hallways and down stairs, we feel the ground squishing under our feet and a pungent odor seers our nostrils. The zombie suddenly flicks on the light and we scream in horror.
The zombie is our vomit covered child and the 'squish' we are standing in is a pool of their own making. We have been lead, in the dead of night, to their rooms were they have 'not quite' made it to the bathroom. Welcome to The Flu of 2011.
We lived in a house with hardwood floors for six years. And in those six years we only had one episode of a child throwing up on the floor. We have lived in this beautifully carpeted home for six months and in the past week all three children have chucked on the carpets. Seriously?
This is one of the worst parts of parenting, I don't do well with puking kids. Don't get me wrong, I feel bad for the kids when they are sick but the cleaning of the chunky carpets, the washing of the stinky bedding and the constant stench of sick in the house is almost more than I can handle. Although I do better than my mom did when we were kids, more often than not she would end up throwing up with us, I am not the parent the kids seek out when they are sick.
This is Mr. Awesome's forte, this is how he earns his awesome. He can comfort the kids, clean the floors and change the bedding without so much as a grimace. He makes everyone feel like everything is going to be just fine. In fact, when I called him earlier to give him an update on the kids, he offered to come home and help clean up the mess on the floor. Although I declined his offer, and cleaned up everything myself, he still gets bonus points for asking.
Every horror flick needs a hero after all.